Target
by T'Pring
Summary: Sheppard's team responds to a request by an ally world and quickly discovers that there's more going on than unusual technology scaring local shopkeepers. When John goes missing, it's up to Sam Carter and the rest to get him home safely. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: "Target" takes place in Season 4, between Spoils of War and The Kindred._

* * *

><p><em>Target - by T'pring<em>

"This is Mitchelson. East quadrant – negative."

"McConnell. North quadrant – also negative."

"Walker at the Gate, sir. South quadrant is quiet."

John sighed and gave Ronon a meaningful look. "West quadrant quiet, so far. Hold your positions. Walker, keep the path to the gate clear, no matter what."

"Yes, _sir_!" came the reassuring reply.

John dropped his hand from the radio in his vest pocket, then lifted his P-90 a little higher. "I knew we should have gone East," he muttered. He could just barely see Ronon's amused snarl in the dim forest light. The sun had set half an hour ago, leaving only the faint blush of pink against the highest westerly clouds to peek through the canopy of new, spring leaves.

"Only cowards attack under cover of nightfall," was Ronon's answer to the complaint.

"Only people with an agenda attack at all. I want to know why our people are being targeted."

"Pulo said that the singing bullets have flown through the marketplace five times in the last month. No one was hurt before…"

"Before Anderson came home with a hole in his leg," John spat. "I don't find that very much of a coincidence."

"Teyla talked to the shopkeepers. They say hundreds of people come to shop, every day. From every world. Even the Satedans used to trade at the Ahk-ho-lido Market."

"Well, I hope she's talking now. Someone has to know something." John slapped at his P-90, then waved towards the nothingness with an agitated jerk of his hand. "Keep walking."

"Don't worry. The wraith queen scared her bad enough. She won't take any chances," Ronon replied, correctly interpreting his unease, damn him. John wasn't comfortable with Teyla leaving Atlantis, despite her assurances that she no longer wished to join any combat maneuvers and only intended to act as liaison as she had when they'd first established their trade relationships on this world.

Ronon chuckled at John's non-committal grunt and they both returned their full attention to the gloomy forest. The scanner in his hand showed random shadows and blips of forest life, but nothing that seemed to look human. There was a life sign the size and weight of a deer to their South. He waved Ronon in that direction, following an impulse to check out the deer. They had only moved a few meters towards it, when the lifesign spooked and bounded off the screen in great hops. John sighed again. Definitely a deer. Or whatever they called them on this planet.

"I don't see anything out here," he groused.

"Then shut up and listen."

Their steps became even softer as they picked their way over roots and rocky soil. Winter had composted the fall leaves into nothing but scattered mulch and the occasional pile of soggy rotten vegetation. Here and there, a fragile new tree struggled out of the hard-packed earth. The light faded completely, but their eyes adjusted with the sky and they were able to creep along without flashlights. The eastern horizon was already brightening with what was probably a moon or other bright satellite.

Three days ago, Anderson had stumbled home with a deep graze in his leg from one of the 'singing bullets' that had been plaguing this world for several weeks. Anderson, in fact, had gone to answer a plea from Trade Master Pulo to check out the very phenomenon that hinted at technology beyond the Pegasus Usual. It all seemed very fishy to John. He'd left Teyla with Pulo to keep an eye on him. He'd left McKay to keep an eye on Teyla.

The rest of the Marine team he'd brought were spread around the village, looking for who, or what, had launched the barrage of whistling projectiles that had swarmed the market a few hours after they'd arrived. The tiny missiles had frightened the evening shoppers and impacted alarmingly against the walls of the administrative building they had been meeting within.

"This is Sheppard. Status," he ordered into the radio again after several quiet, uneventful minutes passed under the darkened branches.

"Northern quadrant – clear. No sign of -" came the first calm response just before a panicky voice interrupted.

"Sheppard! I'm picking up energy signatures that match the singing bullets. 100 meters on your 3 o'clock." Rodney was yelling like they might hear him from the village.

John felt his face flush with adrenaline and froze. "Can you get a lock on the origin?"

"Yes and no. They just appeared out of nowhere so I don't have any idea of what the source _is_, but I have the coordinates for _where_ I first picked them up. The signatures are moving your direction. Fast!"

John shot a look at Ronon then turned to jog towards the village. "Mitchellson, McConnell, meet me at the Southwest corner of the village. Rodney, send my scanner the coordinates of the origin. We need to regroup and approach the source in force."

There was a chorus of acknowledgement before Rodney butted in again.

"Sheppard, the missiles are splitting up. Two groups. One heading towards town. The other straight at you."

John slapped at the flashlight on his P-90 and ran faster, the bright beam of the light glinting off gnarled roots and dead leaves.

"You _sure_ these aren't mini drones?" he panted into the receiver.

"No. Wrong frequency. Wrong impact crater. Wrong… Take cover!"

Rodney's shout preceded a chilling whistle that drew shivers down John's spine. The villagers called them "singing bullets" and at that moment, he agreed with the name. They gave off no visible light, none of the usual sounds of propulsion, just the screaming whistle. A streak of energy in the "wtf-rodney-figure-it-out" spectrum painted a deadly line across the scanner's softly glowing face.

"Down!" John yelled, throwing himself into a pile of rotting leaves. He heard the satisfying thud of Ronon doing the same. The whistle became a piercing shriek and John could almost count the number of projectiles from the variation in pitch – a deadly four or five-part harmony zipped by overhead just as he was eating dirt.

Almost as soon as they were overhead, they were gone, the pitch sinking in a weird Doppler-shifted chord progression.

"Missed," Ronon grunted from the now almost pitch black ground at John's right elbow.

"Where are they going?" John ground out still on his belly in the dirt. He kept his eyes glued to the scanner.

"Sheppard! Are you OK? Come in!"

John became aware of the radio screaming for his attention and was about to answer when the whistle began to grow louder again.

"Oh…crap. They're turning! Wait. They're turning? Rodney! Are these things heat-seeking?"

"I don't know! They could be remote control."

"McKay!"

"I know! But I still don't see anyone but your team out in the woods. If it is remote control, I haven't found who's steering."

"Great. Mitchellson, change of plans. Take cover in the town until we figure out how these things work and if we can jam them first."

"And you, sir?" came Mitchellson's cool reply. Damn his guys for being mother-hen types.

"We're coming, now move!" This time the reply was simple affirmation. John allowed himself a bit of relief at knowing the rest of the team would be safe.

The screaming had been getting closer and John had his eye on the screen. A sudden jolt of anxiety sent him scrambling to his feet. The bullets were coming in fast from his left and John lunged behind a large, ancient tree trunk just as the pitch reached peak volume. Two thuds against the trunk at his back splatted with the crunchy sound of splintering wood. A third kicked up leaves at the spot where he'd been lying moments before. At least two more sang the minor third of Doppler shift and passed by.

"Ronon!"

"I'm good." Ronon joined him a moment later, his eyes gleaming in the faint light of the scanner screen. Their feet were illuminated in the bright puddle of the P-90's flashlight that dangled off John's chest.

"There are at least two more bullets. And…damn!...they're turning around again." John shook the scanner, annoyed. "They seem to be heat seeking, but I don't think they're remote control – their pattern is too consistent."

"So what do we do?" Ronon didn't sound alarmed, merely resigned. Just another obstacle to conquer. John stepped briefly around the tree trunk and swept the P-90's light over the gouges of raw wood in the tree trunk.

"They're not very maneuverable. If we can keep a large object between us and them, they'll hit something eventually. When they're all gone, we boogie back to town and make Rodney figure out a way to jam them."

"OK," Ronon grunted. "Should we split up?"

John hesitated, then jerked his head in a nod. "Find a big tree or rock nearby."

Ronon cocked his hip, looked at the flashlight and scanner in John's hands, then put his hand on the tree that had just sheltered John. "Found one."

John chuckled. He swept the flashlight's beam over the surrounding landscape. "I'll stay within hailing distance," he said then jogged south, his eyes never straying far from the scanner. The whistling bullets echoed spookily in the blackness beyond the reach of his light and he broke into a heavy jog, looking for another large tree or rock outcrop. This part of the forest was relatively open, with the broad oak-like trees scattered among taller and thinner aspen-like trunks.

When the shriek reached painful levels again, John threw himself to the ground as the trails and his dot intersected and again, they whizzed overhead.

"They're coming your way!" he shouted, his voice sounding hoarse. He scrambled upright once more and made it the last few feet to the rocky outcrop he'd spotted. He put the boulder between himself and the bullets and knelt into a crouch. The trails on the scanner led away and then curved in a sharp arc back towards…him.

"What the…?" John whispered. They'd ignored Ronon completely.

"Heads up, Sheppard!" Ronon bellowed from the north. "Headed your way again!"

"I know!" John bellowed back, bracing for the next pass. They'd also turned faster. When they shrieked overhead, John scrabbled around the rock, trying to keep it between him and the bullets. He made it only a quarter of the way around before the whistle, never fading below a dull scream, rushed at him again, making their fastest turn yet.

John flung himself to the side and a bullet smashed into the rock. A blast of pebbles and chips blew into the right side of John's face and neck. He yelped a curse, spun, and fell to his hands and knees, still trying to crawl around the rock. The final bullet screamed closer. John grabbed for the rock, heaved himself up and around, trying to fling himself behind the jagged edge.

A tremendous force slammed into his back and drove his chest into the ground. The forest went eerie quiet. John could hear Ronon calling his name, but couldn't draw breath to answer. When his stunned breathing reflex finally reset, he sucked in a gulp of air, then groaned a long growl of agony. He was wearing a Kevlar vest in lieu of the usual tactical vest and the singing bullet's impact had felt like a sledge hammer against his back – as it should have. But the sharp ache growing between his right shoulder blade and his spine didn't feel right.

He clawed at the ground, struggling to control the pain and realized something else: everything below his shoulders felt tingly and sluggish. "Crap…" he gasped, then bit his lip, telling himself he just needed to wait for Ronon to show up and knock him in the head so he could pass out. He buried his face in his hands, still on his stomach in the dirt, and concentrated on breathing. The thud of heavy footsteps vibrated through John's body and he gasped, swearing to hold it together for a little longer, anticipating Ronon's chuff of concern.

Instead, a metallic vice clamped around his ankle and heaved. John was lifted off the ground and flipped onto his back. A single cry was forced out of his lungs before he went limp, overwhelmed by the screaming, this time inside his head.

* * *

><p>"Sheppard!" Ronon's call was a growl of frustration. The night sky was clear and growing brighter, but it was still impossible to see beyond a meter in any direction.<p>

"Sheppard, damn you!"

Ronon stumbled towards the place where he'd last heard Sheppard speak…and then yelp. The singing bullets were ominously silent. Remembering the tools that Sheppard's people had given him at last, he finally tapped the radio in his ear.

"McKay! Tell me where Sheppard is!"

"What happened? There are no more missile signatures."

"I don't know! Just tell me how to get to Sheppard." Ronon roared, still working his way blindly through the bare roots, scouring the ground with eyes trained to look for the smallest impression…that he had no hope of seeing in the dim undergrowth.

"Sheppard's on the move. His signature is heading west at – this can't be right?"

Ronon froze, alarmed. _Sheppard was moving?_ "What's not right?"

"He's moving at almost 15 KPH which is too fast even for Mr. Ninja jogger, especially in the dark. Are you sure you don't see anything? A vehicle? Beast of burden? Heli- Oh, no."

Ronon was peering even harder into the impenetrable gloom as McKay's yelp brought a flush of fear to his chest. "Oh, no _what_?"

"It's gone. Sheppard's transponder signal just went dark."

"Why? How was he moved?"

"How am I supposed to know? You're the one standing ten feet from where the missile signature faded out."

"This is where Sheppard was when the singing bullets went dark?"

"Yes. Can you see anything?" Rodney's voice was growing panicky which only twisted the fear in Ronon's own gut into tighter knots. McKay could figure more out with his machines from miles away than most men could with their own ears and eyes in person. If McKay was stumped…

Ronon strained his eyes and spun in a slow circle. An unusual outcropping of rock began to glow faintly in the brightening moonlight, its creamy, chalk grey surface reflecting the wan light. Sheppard had been looking for cover, so Ronon jogged to the rock and began to circle it. A twinkle of light caught his attention. Fighting back a snarl of fury, he dug in the pile of leaves and disturbed dust to pull out Sheppard's P-90, flashlight still glowing.

"Did you find anything?" Rodney repeated, but Ronon couldn't speak, yet.

He swept the beam over the ground and let the marks tell him the story.

"There's an impact crater against a boulder," he spoke into the radio at last. "One of the bullets smashed into the rock."

"That's reassuring," McKay quipped, but he wasn't being sarcastic and Ronon understood. If the bullet had hit the rock, it had not hit Sheppard.

"I can see where Sheppard lay in the dirt beside it."

"To avoid the missile," came a new, equally worried, voice. Ronon almost smiled. Teyla was listening in. Ronon crouched and concentrated the beam on the disturbed ground.

"There are drag marks. Someone pulled Sheppard away from here by his feet."

Ronon and Teyla exclaimed and spluttered at the comment, but Ronon tuned them out to hear what the earth was telling him. The drag marks continued as far as the flashlight beam could trace. He stood, intending to follow the marks, then crouched quickly again, dabbing at a small patch of damp dirt. He brought the mud to his face, then hung his head. His hands clenched into tight fists and a howl of frustration and fear found his voice.

When silence once again claimed the forest, Ronon lifted his hand to his radio, tapped the connection open.

"Sheppard's gone. I found blood at the place where he was dragged away and he's gone."

"I'm sending the rest of the Marine unit to your location. Stay put and we'll begin the search from there."

Ronon heard the words, but he wasn't listening. The curses in his head were too loud. He followed the drag marks until they, too, ended. There were two, deep, roughly foot-sized impressions at the spot, but they were unlike any prints Ronon had ever seen. Another splotch of wet blood stained a broadleaf weed beside the prints. Beyond that there was nothing.

"SHEPPARD!"

The dead, empty air swallowed up Ronon's shout. Only night-creekers replied.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hi! RL threw me a really interesting curveball this past 3 days so I do apologize about the long delay! Thank you for reading!_

Rodney paced the perimeter of the candle-lit, Barter Room with one ear tuned to the radio and the other to Teyla's heated conversation with Pulo.

"_Grid point 3-3 negative_."

"_Grid_ _point 3-4 negative_."

"_I am outraged that you accuse me so, Teyla Emmagan of the Athosians. We are just as much under attack as you. More so! The singing bullets have disrupted the market for a full moon cycle._"

"_But none of your people, nor any of your other customers have been struck by them. None of your people have gone missing_."

"_None of our people were foolish enough to wander in the woods at night while the singing bullets flew_."

"_Colonel Sheppard was in the woods at night trying to protect _your_ people, at your request_."

"_Grid point 4-1 negative_."

Rodney sighed. The Marines were having about as much success as Teyla. Ronon's voice finally broke through the monotony of "negative"s.

"This is pointless. Regroup at grid point 1-1. We need reinforcements and equipment. And some damn light."

If the resigned acknowledgements were any clue, then search conditions sucked out there. Rodney suspected that Ronon's willingness to leave the forest indicated his belief that Sheppard was no longer IN the forest. Nothing else could get the barbarian off the hunt and that worried Rodney. If Ronon was giving up…

Rodney suddenly pounced on his radio.

"Walker. Have you had any activity at the Stargate?"

"Is that Doctor McKay?" came the puzzled answer.

"No, it's Mickey Mouse and I need directions to the nearest world with a theme park populated by demons between the ages of 3 and 11. Or you could just answer my question: Has there been any activity at the Stargate?"

"No activity at the Stargate, doctor." Walker's voice sounded frosty, but Rodney really didn't care. "We've got the gate well secured."

"Good. That's good." Rodney thought for a moment, somewhat relieved. Walker had been at the gate since before Sheppard went missing, so whoever had him hadn't left. That way. Which left a disturbing possibility on the table. Planet. Whatever. Rodney spoke into the radio again.

"Walker, dial the gate. I need to talk to Sam."

* * *

><p>Sam Carter sat in her office, her elbows askew on her desk, her chin jammed into her palm. She was trying hard to look relaxed, like she was just resting. But every thread of her attention was focused on the soft noises floating in from the control room. Every spare thought was preparing search scenarios, even while she was reminding herself that it was Lorne's job to coordinate search and rescue should Sheppard be unavailable. Missing, presumed abducted, was pretty damn unavailable.<p>

She sighed, then repressed an irritable fidget. Minutes ticked by, and she glared at the digital clock in the corner of her laptop monitor. She could swear it was ticking, mocking her. If there was one thing she'd learned in her few months in the Pegasus galaxy, it was that time mattered. When someone went missing under unexplained circumstances, the best – and sometimes only – hope for getting them back was speed. Sometimes, Pegasus reminded Sam of the early days: when the Milky Way Galaxy had been more Wild West and less Stratego.

When the Stargate finally began to sing with its almost musical connection to an inbound wormhole, Sam leaped out of her chair and was at the communications console before the fourth Chevron was locked. And they locked fast in the Pegasus Network – another difference between here and…home.

McKay's voice blasted through the comm once the event horizon had settled into a placid gurgle.

"Atlantis, this is McKay. I need to talk to Colonel Carter."

"Go ahead, Rodney," Sam replied, just catching the amused eye-roll of the on-duty communications technician. She puzzled only for the half second it took her to catch on: she had spent her first month going over her preferred protocol for offworld communications which the gateroom staff had politely listened to, then just as politely ignored when she herself broke every suggestion. Definitely Wild West.

"Sam, we're calling off the foot search for now. Ronon needs more light and better equipment to do any real tracking."

"How long until morning?"

"Another four hours."

So, Sam thought, day and night are about the same as here. She was running through equipment they'd need when Rodney went on.

"But that's not why I called. Sam, we need a jumper in the air. Whoever is firing those heat seeking bullets has a higher level of technology than anyone else we've encountered, aside from the Travellers."

"You're afraid they're going to try to get Sheppard off the planet in a ship." Sam's insides lurched as she immediately jumped to the point Rodney was getting at. Her mind began to race through the implications.

"No, I think – wait, yes. Before Sheppard's transponder went dark, he was travelling at speeds only a machine or a horse could achieve. Based on Ronon's description of the terrain, I'm ruling out horse."

"We've got a med-evac jumper on standby. I'll repurpose the mission and send it through in ten minutes."

"Good, good. Tell them to make high orbit and scan immediately for ships and hyperdrive signatures. If they see someone, tell them not to hesitate – we can't let it leave the system."

"I'm not telling anyone to fire on an unknown culture with space-flight capability without warning, Rodney. We can –."

"They've got Sheppard."

Rodney's voice was the cold snap of frustration. She could almost read his frenetic mind – her own happened to work similarly: _We were too slow the last time, twice. Sheppard might not be as lucky with this threat as he was with the Travellers…_ Sam understood Rodney's fear, she shared it. But she also wouldn't put her people at risk by ordering a strike against technology unknown.

"I'm coming to join you," she decided suddenly. Things were too uncertain. The situation could change too rapidly for her to respond in time. And…she really just wanted to be there. She'd spent too many years in field work to really be comfortable calling the shots from behind a puddle. "Your team is probably exhausted. I'll send the jumper through ASAP and bring a fresh search party in half an hour."

"I'm not tired," Rodney snapped, too quickly to be believable. "But fresh grunts sound like a good idea."

"Rodney – ."

"And make sure you include a corpsman. Ronon found a lot of blood."

Sam clamped her jaw around the retort she'd been forming. "I'll be there soon," is all she could find to say.

* * *

><p>Teyla squirmed uncomfortably in her chair and felt her son wriggle within her as if also trying to get comfortable. The gentle reminder encouraged her to calm her agitation and she took several deep breaths. Perhaps it was the Gift she was certain she shared with her child, or perhaps it was simply wishful thinking, but Teyla had observed that the baby seemed to react to her moods and thoughts.<p>

Although the Barter Room had grown crowded, the mood was subdued. The four Marines who had searched with Ronon stood in a silent row against the far wall. Their slumped postures betrayed the fatigue of a failed hunt. Ronon paced behind Rodney – a vibrating tower of ceaseless motion. She studied her teammates a moment longer and grew only more concerned. There was the sense of failure about them as well. A brooding tension was growing in the room that could only partly be explained by worry. There were too many stones missing in this trade. And Teyla had learned that when things didn't add up, someone was lying about the numbers.

She glared at Pulo and the baby kicked again.

The Ahk-ho-lido Market's Trademaster was lounging insolently in the end chair of the long, polished table that dominated the center of the Barter Room. A handsome, if arrogant, man, he sat as though overseeing the activity within his walls. But Teyla saw the tremor of his fingers as he clenched his fists and the wistful look he threw at the door and knew that he was quite aware of his true situation: Atlantis would not let one so steeped in suspicion leave their sight.

Pulo had loudly denied any knowledge of the source of the singing bullets and said he had only asked his "great friends and trade partners from the former City of the Ancients" for help when it became clear that the singing bullets were not of any technology he understood. The Trademaster caught her scrutiny and turned away to whisper a surly comment to his counterpart, Governor Silpa. Silpa, a thin fidgety, and surprisingly young, man glanced nervously at Teyla, then, too, looked away.

Teyla sighed. Silpa's power was more decorative than substantive. The Trademaster wielded the true power in this city's politics. It was a shame. She had found Silpa quite intelligent and a thoughtful leader over the years, when he was allowed to lead.

Her frustrated thoughts were interrupted by the abrupt arrival of Colonel Carter and a fresh team of Marines. She rose slowly, and stretched as the room became suddenly noisy. The new search team looked grim and confident. They carried with them bags of equipment and were soon setting up a communications command station on the end of the table, indifferently displacing Pulo, Silpa and the advisors who loitered there.

The look of furious impotence on Pulo's face was quite…satisfying, Teyla thought as she approached Colonel Carter.

"Hello, Teyla," the Colonel offered quickly. "Are you feeling well with all the excitement?"

Had Teyla not spent long enough with Carter to know that the concern implied was genuine, she would have bristled at the question. Instead, the Colonel's ability to check up on all her people brought a ghost of a smile to Teyla's face.

"I am tired but fine. We are very concerned for John, however."

"I am, too," Carter murmured, and Teyla again saw the truth in her eyes. "What's Rodney working on? I'm surprised he isn't bullying the comm station setup." She was watching Rodney and Ronon, who had hardly acknowledged the new arrivals.

"He is observing the Jumper's search above the planet, I believe. Rodney has not said so, but I sense that he, and Ronon, too, are more worried than they are admitting. The fact that they are not searching the forest on foot as we speak…"

"I got that, too," Carter answered, her voice low. "What do your local contacts think?"

Teyla allowed herself to scowl at Pulo before she answered. "Trade Master Pulo insists that they are as shocked as we are by John's disappearance."

"Do you believe him?"

"I am not sure what to think. He has, frankly, been nothing but a pain in the ass." Teyla blushed at the phrase that slipped out before her usual consideration and held her breath. Carter just looked amused, so she went on, reminding herself to be more diplomatic. "He may only be frightened by the bullets and fearful of our reaction, but I feel that he is withholding _something_ from us."

"Then it's your job to keep an eye on him. Figure out what he does know."

"That's what John said," Teyla answered softly. "I fear that I have failed in even that simple task."

"No one knows these people better than you, Teyla." Carter was nodding thoughtfully and Teyla was grateful for the woman's confidence. That, more than anything, bolstered her spirits.

"I will continue to try."

"Good," Carter said with a guarded smile. "Now, let's see if I can help, too."

With that, Carter crossed the room to stand beside Rodney.

* * *

><p>John didn't know how long he'd been drifting in the strange, black nightmare. He only had a vague memory of the rhythmic impact of cold metal against his back, a growing pain in his chest, and an odd sensation of floating. The harder he tried to reach the surface, the faster he seemed to sink back into the dark.<p>

It wasn't until the gentle rocking ended in an abrupt flop against damp ground that John roused enough to crack his eyes open. A large blob loomed over him, backlit against morning-lit, pale grey sky. John struggled, trying to shove away from the…whatever it was.

A massive arm reached out and he instinctively tried to swat it away. That was when he realized his hands were tied behind his back. The arm jabbed at his neck. A sharp pain was immediately followed by a warm fuzziness that spread through his body from the top down. Fighting the drug, John gritted his teeth and growled out a furious curse of defiance.

"What..d'you…want…with…me?" he hissed. The shadowy figure was getting fuzzier and dimmer as the drug continued to pull him into the dark again. The shape hovering over him made no sound except a strange creaking that brought images of his men in assault armor to his mind's eye.

The arm reached out a second time and he was jerked upright by his shoulders. His back was pressed against a cold, lumpy surface and he found himself sitting, head lolling forward. The hand attached to the arm ripped at his Kevlar and tore the Velcro seams apart before it yanked the vest over his head. With a massive effort, John managed to lift his head. He stared into the face of his assailant as the arm jabbed forward one last time.

A screaming hot spike pierced his chest, just below his collarbone. John voiced a ragged scream and the arm just pressed harder, driving the spike deeper. His vision greyed out completely and the scream became a deep groan of defeat. When at last the arm withdrew, John's chin drooped again. The spike in his chest faded into a rhythmic throbbing that joined the twinge of fire that accompanied every breath.

Eventually, even that faded as the sedative claimed him. He fell gently into oblivion as the whine of an alien engine broke the stillness of the pre-dawn hush.


	3. Chapter 3

Tentative sunlight streamed in through the high, narrow windows of the Barter Room, painting stripes in the dusty air. Teyla saw Rodney chuff and jerk at the screen of his laptop, tilting it away from the glare with a characteristic McKay grumble.

She knew that the jumper was still in orbit, still keeping watch for ships and energy signatures that might indicate where John had been taken and that Rodney was watching every mote of data the jumper collected.

At the end of the long table that dominated the room, two Marines were talking softly into their headsets. Lorne and Colonel Carter hovered behind them, looking bored and anxious in equal measure. Ronon and the fresh search teams had returned to the forest at dawn, but their search had, so far, been as fruitless as before.

She suddenly wished for Ronon's presence here as she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and braced against the confrontation at hand. Pulo stood in front of her, surrounded by his advisors and Silpa.

"You people have no authority over me!" Pulo announced with an imperious wave.  
>"I demand you allow us to leave this instant."<p>

The Trademaster was red-faced and puffed up with anger. Tela felt the SOs blocking the door behind her shift a little. They didn't draw weapons, but they were clearly unnerved by the hostility in Pulo's tone.

"You are incorrect, Pulo," Teyla spat back. "We have every authority to ensure the protection of our people. You have been unhelpful at best, indifferent at least, and I see no reason why I should believe that you will be any less so outside. In here, at least, I can make sure you cause no more trouble."

"I am outraged! If this is the way Atlantis treats its friends and allies –."

"You are no friend of Atlantis, Pulo. You have done nothing all night but blather on about the interruption to your sleep. A true friend would be helping us search for Colonel Sheppard." Teyla stepped closer and she almost grinned at the stiff terror in his eyes. "A true friend would tell us what's really going on, here."

You could hear a stone drop in the silence that followed. Even the communications team had stopped talking to gape at the standoff at the end of the room. Sam and Lorne and even Rodney sidled over, adding their presence and support. Teyla gave Rodney a small glance of gratitude that the fidgety scientist returned with an amused smirk. Sam's look was equally annoyed.

"I have duties in the marketplace," Pulo said at last, his voice cold.

Teyla took a deep breath, released it in a huff of frustration. She stepped aside, waving to the SOs to do the same. Rodney's expression was almost as surprised as Pulo's.

"Attend to your duties, Pulo and we will continue to attend to ours. We will not hold you here any longer. But we are not leaving Ahk-ho-lido until our friend is found. Do not attempt to leave this world. The stargate is quite well guarded, and they will not step aside for anyone. Not even you."

Pulo looked like he wanted to retort, but a glance at the group of stern Atlantians apparently convinced him that he'd better go while the option was still available. He shoved the doors open, waving imperiously to his advisors.

"Come on, Silpa," he barked when the town governor hesitated at the back of Pulo's group.

"I think I'll stay for a while longer, Pulo," Silpa said mildly. Pulo's eyebrows went up. By the time he pulled himself together and stormed out, he was looking furious.

"What's got his Pleiades in a bunch?" Rodney snorted, once they were finally gone. Teyla rolled her eyes and spoke hastily to Sam.

"Colonel Carter, I recommend you send someone to follow Pulo and keep an eye on him."

Carter nodded, jerked a nod at one of the SOs who grinned, shucked his tac vest and slipped out the door into the market beyond.

"Do you really suspect him of being involved, Teyla?" Carter asked, drawing closer once they were finally alone - almost. She was shooting sideways looks at Silpa who stood quietly watching. Rodney obviously didn't feel the same need for tact and stared at the Governor with open suspicion. Lorne shook his head, then returned to the search, clearly more interested in finding his CO than politics.

"He may truly only be an arrogant, obnoxious, greedy excuse of a little man," Teyla sighed. "But even if he isn't involved in John's disappearance, he may cause trouble for our search teams. It seems prudent for him to know we are watching him."

"So who's watching this guy?" Rodney wondered, throwing a thumb at Silpa. The man raised an amused eyebrow.

"Pulo is an arrogant, obnoxious, greedy little man," Silpa agreed diplomatically. "But as such, he cannot abide any disturbance to the marketplace. We are well aware of Atlantis's _influence_ in this galaxy. I cannot believe that Pulo would knowingly endanger Colonel Sheppard when it is obvious that any act of aggression against a man of the Colonel's importance would only bring the wrong kind of attention upon us."

Something in the man's inflection caught Teyla's attention, and she felt her eyes narrow as she studied the governor's face. "_Knowingly_ endanger?" she pressed. Silpa squirmed, looking a bit sheepish.

"A week ago, Pulo called an emergency meeting and demanded that we contact Atlantis for help against the singing bullets. I had suggested as much the first time they appeared, but Pulo stubbornly insisted we could handle the incidents ourselves. I believe he actually hoped to acquire or capture the technology for his own uses."

"Capture it? _We_ don't even know what it is, yet," Rodney groused. "Or who made it, or where whoever made it came from."

"Hmm, well, as I said – Pulo is a remarkably arrogant man," Silpa agreed with a shrug. "But that morning, he was frantic with rage. The bullets had terrorized the market at opening and Pulo himself had taken a security squad into the forest to retrace their path. When he limped home, he was angry, disheveled, and suddenly frantic to contact you."

Teyla shared a puzzled look with Sam.

"What do you think happened?" Sam asked.

"I can't speculate as to what happened, but I know that whatever it was scared him as bad as any wraith ever has." Silpa suddenly looked stern. "Colonel Sheppard's disappearance has awakened me to the realization that my people are in danger. I'm ashamed to admit that I allowed Pulo's argument that the bullets had not injured anyone, yet, to appease me. Pulo only cares for the market. I see now that was more afraid of losing a few days of profit than for the safety of our people and guests."

Sam was shaking her head in frustration. "Governor Silpa, I have to confess that I really don't care about your market or your politics. Right now, I only care about getting our man back. So please - is there anything else you need to tell us?" Teyla was surprised by the venom in the Colonel's expression and Silpa looked properly chastened.

"If you will permit me to leave as well, I…should go talk to some people."

"Who?" Sam demanded.

"I wish to speak with the security guards who accompanied Pulo into the forest the morning he changed his mind about involving Atlantis. Perhaps I can learn more about the incident that so changed Pulo's opinions."

Sam's expression softened. "That sounds like a good idea. Thank you, Governor. Please let us know if you hear anything we should know about."

"I will," he promised crisply, then strode out of the Barter Room. Teyla watched Carter's expression flicker with disgust once he was out of sight, but the Colonel was too diplomatic to let the emotion overwhelm her judgment and no further comments crossed her lips.

Teyla felt spent – completely exhausted. Her back ached and her belly was tight. She was tired and frightened for John and the growing fear of losing him so soon after losing her people and her child's father was suddenly overwhelming. She blinked furiously to control the tears that stung her eyes, hating the look of sympathy that Sam was now wearing.

Rodney wandered back to his computer and Teyla found herself being guided gently by the arm towards a seat next to him.

"Why don't you help McKay monitor the jumper's progress," Sam suggested lightly. "I think you've had enough diplomacy for one night."

"Thank you, Sam," she whispered, grateful as much for not speaking to her weakness as for the thoughtfulness."

"Thank _you_, Teyla. I think you handled Pulo and Silpa well. And we may get some useful intel out of Silpa because of it."

Sam returned to her position beside Lorne and Teyla sank gratefully into the seat. Rodney was completely engrossed in the screens that meant almost nothing to her, so she simply sat and took deep breaths to calm her anxiety.

"What do you _really_ think about Pulo?" Rodney asked after a comfortable silence.

"I think he's a coward. But he is not the reason for John's abduction." She surprised herself with the confidence of her answer, as disheartening as that answer was. They knew no more now than the moment they stepped foot on the planet. Rodney just nodded and kept tapping lightly at his keyboard.

Teyla was just considering putting her head down on the table in front of her when she felt Rodney stiffen. She had shoved her chair back and was leaning over his shoulder even before he exclaimed, "Uh, oh!" Sam jerked her head in their direction and rushed over. Rodney's fingers were slapping the keyboard with harder and harder strokes.

"No! No, no, no, no, no. Jumper two, intercept it! It's coming at you fast. Change course to…Dammit!"

Ice cold fear slid through Teyla's veins as Rodney swore and slapped his computer in anger.

"What is it, Rodney?" Sam blurted, leaning over his other shoulder and peering at the screen.

"What happened?" Teyla demanded at almost the same moment. Rodney was still typing furiously as he answered.

"We had a bogey on the scanners. Small ship, almost undetectable. It blasted off the planet and went into hyperspace."

"Is that confirmed?" Sam snapped. Rodney put his hand over the radio in his ear.

"Confirmed. The jumper just got a glimpse. They're analyzing the hyperspace signature now."

"Rodney," Teyla breathed, leaning heavily on his shoulder. He didn't shrug off her touch.

"I know," he just whispered. "We never had a chance to stop it. It opened a hyperspace window almost before it left the atmosphere. Whatever it was, was tiny and powerful. Definitely technology beyond the Travellers." He slapped a few more keys, "and the signature confirms it."

"Who are these people?" Sam wondered out loud, her voice thick with horror. Teyla wouldn't accept the defeat in Sam's voice.

"Rodney, what about John?"

"I…" Rodney broke off. "I'm tracing the ship's trajectory back to its likely launch point, assuming it was on the ground. Maybe we'll be able to search the area and get more clues about it and the people flying it." He typed another spat of letters into his machine, then abruptly collapsed in on himself. He jammed his elbows into the table and his face into his hands.

Teyla sank back into her chair, her hand still clutching at Rodney.

"He's gone?" she whispered. "John's gone?"

Rodney gave a false cough, then made a valiant effort to return to his work. "Maybe we'll learn something from the launch site," he repeated, but his hands were shaking.

"Send a copy of the hyperspace signature back to Atlantis right away," Sam added, also sounding hoarse. "We'll start deep space scans of every system within reach."

Rodney just nodded. Teyla felt the prickle of tears again. _Gone…how could he just be gone? Would everyone she…loved be taken from her, one by one?_ A deep, cold, numbness settled into her chest.

"Wait!" Rodney said, his fingers slapping again.

Teyla closed her eyes, unable to bear more technobabble. It hadn't saved John or Kanaan or her people…

"There!" Rodney cried out. "In the forest."

"That's almost 90 kilometers from here." Sam's voice, coming from Rodney's other side, sounded skeptical, but there was an excitement in the tone that lifted Teyla's despair enough for her to tilt her head to listen for more.

"I know, but before Sheppard's transponder went dark last night, I clocked him moving at around 15 kph. If whatever had him maintained that speed, it's possible."

Teyla opened her eyes. Sam and Rodney were both crouched low over the screen. Lorne was looking expectant from the communications station.

"Has the search team found anything?" Sam asked, still radiating hopeful doubt.

"Ronon found some strange footprints. They've been following them for the past half hour, going the direction of our signature."

"Someone _walked_ 90 kilometers and left John in the woods? Isn't it more likely that you're seeing a local hunter or…"

"Or one of the kidnappers. Sam, it's worth checking out."

"What have you found?" Teyla asked, interrupting Rodney's glare at Sam.

"A life sign. Probably human, in the woods 55 miles from here and very near the place where that ship probably left the surface."

Hope flooded her chest and she threw the same anxious look at Sam that Rodney was wearing, begging with their expressions to be allowed to search.

"Probably? Rodney, it's pretty thin evidence, but –" Sam raised her hand to cut off the protest that both Teyla and Rodney had opened their mouths to voice, "I'll take anything at the moment. Call the jumper and the search teams back. Lorne, regroup and ready a team for a new location."

"Thank you, Sam," Teyla said fervently. Sam just looked worried.

"Don't thank me, yet. I'm afraid I don't have very much hope on this evidence alone but it's worth - ."

Her soft admonition was interrupted by a crow a triumph from Rodney.

"You want evidence? How's _that_ for evidence." He spun his screen towards Sam and jabbed a finger at a glowing dot.

"John!" Teyla exclaimed, recognizing that particular screen easily. A smile finally found her lips.

"His transponder just re-activated. It's him."

"Let's go," Sam said firmly although her expression looked stern, angry almost. There was more than worry in her posture. Sam carried some doubt or caution that she felt unwise to speak which renewed Teyla's worry along with a deep ache of loss.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam Carter lifted her fist and the rustling of the heavily armed men following her ceased, all sound vanishing from their positions as if they, themselves, had disappeared. Sam smiled slightly. The Pegasus teams were more adept at stealth than any others in the Stargate Program. _Regularly hiding from life-sucking space vampires would teach you that_, she mused. A quick glance at the group behind her revealed that Ronon had, in fact, vanished and she suppressed an eye-roll with difficulty.

The effort became even more difficult when scuffling and muttering reached her ears from the very back of their search party.

"Shut it, doctor," Lorne hissed with an annoyed twist of his shoulders to throw the comment back at the trailing McKay. The shuffling stopped, but Rodney's retort pierced the gloomy forest in an equally annoyed stage whisper.

"Sheppard's only 90 meters ahead of us. The blood we found where he was abducted pretty much indicates that he either really got carried away slaughtering a local forest creature or he's injured and needs our help."

Sam could almost hear Lorne grinding his jaw. She sighed and dropped her fist, releasing the group from the command of silence – if only so Lorne wouldn't lose any teeth. McKay barged forward, rustling noisily past the bushes that still clung to their dead, dry leaves in this part of the forest.

"Sam?" McKay's question was much closer to a demand.

"I know we're close, McKay," she interrupted firmly, taking a page from Sheppard's book on managing the volatile physicist. "That's exactly why we're going to slow down and be even more careful. This whole situation reeks of setup, and I'll be damned if I'm going to walk into another trap without spotting it first."

McKay immediately deflated and took a nervous step closer to Lorne. "A trap? Why are we suddenly thinking this is a trap? No one said anything about a trap back at the village."

Sam just shook her head. She couldn't exactly explain it. Ever since Sheppard's transponder had miraculously reactivated, a feeling had been growing in her mind that she couldn't shake. Lorne met her eye and nodded firmly.

"This was too easy," he agreed. "Someone carries Sheppard a hundred clicks away and then just leaves him behind before they jump off the planet? And why isn't Sheppard looking for us? He's been just sitting there for an hour.

"Easy?" muttered McKay and then, "wait. _Another_ trap? Oh…you think Sheppard was set up in the first place. I get it. But how -."

"Zip it, McKay," Lorne snapped and Sam backed up the command with a glare that Rodney obeyed, though his look said he was only postponing the outburst, not forgetting it. With effort and a renewed sympathy for Sheppard's long-suffering patience with Rodney, Sam turned her attention back to the matter at hand.

The closest landing spot big enough for a jumper was a klick away, so they were approaching Sheppard's (she hoped) location on foot. She wasn't about to put the jumper down next to the signal, sight unseen – these kidnappers had proven themselves well able to hide technology from the jumper's scanners and she didn't want anything of that sort to jump out at them.

"What are we looking at, Rodney?" She tapped the scanner in his hand to direct his attention.

"I'm reading a small clearing on the scanner, about 50 meters diameter. Sheppard's transmitter is sitting in the middle of it."

"Alright. Stay close. Lorne, when we reach the clearing, send your team around the perimeter and clear the space."

"Yes, ma'am."

They moved forward again, the footsteps of Lorne and his team almost unheard as they passed over dry leaves and around scrubby bushes. A stiff wind began to whistle around the tree trunks, covering even the noisy steps of McKay and Sam shot a look at the overcast sky that was darkening to shades of charcoal in the west and blotting out the cheerful sunshine that had warmed the morning.

They reached the edge of a small grassy meadow just as a gust of wind whipped over the forest and bent the tops of the trees back and forth like so many upside-down broomsticks. To no one's surprise, Ronon was waiting for them, crouched behind a patch of thick scrub bushes. Sam thought he looked rather like a wild west sheriff in his long, leather coat as he peered into the clearing beyond.

He acknowledged their arrival with a fierce look and a jerk of the hand at the meadow. "I can see him."

Sam just nodded. She pointed to the meadow and signaled to Lorne, who, in turn, flashed a set of instructions to his team. In a moment, they were gone, vanishing around the edges of the meadow in both directions, swallowed up by forest colors and wind-whipped leaves. Only Walker, Lorne's corpsman, remained behind with her and Ronon and McKay, his medical bag bulging at his back.

McKay crowded close. Sam swallowed irritation as he followed her into the clump beside Ronon. She dropped to one knee and pulled out her field binoculars. Walker followed suit.

"Is that him? By the boulder?" McKay hissed, tapping her shoulder.

She scanned the entire meadow carefully before answering, unable to keep the tension out of her voice. "Yeah. It's him. I can't tell if he's tied to the rocks or just unconscious, but…it's Sheppard."

"Let me see," McKay snapped, and Sam handed the binoculars over. She'd already seen as much as she needed. More than she'd wanted. Sheppard was propped against a large outcrop of rock about two-thirds across the clearing from where they squatted. His head was slumped onto his chest, and the left side of his face was slick with a sheen of red that trickled from a cut at his hairline. Even through the tiny binoculars, Sam could see that he wasn't in good shape.

"Head laceration could account for the blood," Walker reported quietly, as he peered at John through the binoculars. Sam almost allowed herself to feel relieved until Walker squashed the hope by adding a soft curse and, "but the penetrating wound to the upper right quadrant is probably the more serious injury."

He lowered the binoculars and gave her a worried look. "Colonel, I'd like to get over there."

A cold, burning knot of worry and fury fought for space in her chest. Concern competed with caution and McKay was already turning, no doubt about to blunder ahead, before she found her voice.

"Wait, McKay. Until Lorne gives us the all-clear. I don't want anyone else to get hurt." Rodney's eyes went wide, then determined, but he nodded. They didn't have to wait long. Her radio clicked only a minute or two later, then crackled into life.

"We're clear as far as I can tell. Jumper 2 also confirms no rogue life signs." Sam could hear the shrug in Lorne's voice. "We're positioned around the meadow. I recommend we send one person in first so the rest of us can keep an eye on whatever…pops up."

Sam nodded, having already thought the same thing. "I'll go," she said.

"I'll go, too, ma'am. He needs immediate medical attention," Walker added quickly.

Sam thought for a moment, then nodded with an abrupt jerk of her head. Rodney twitched, and Sam pointedly ignored him, recognizing the signs of a McKay fit close to the surface. And that reminded her…

"Ronon, you stay here." She lifted a hand to cut off any retort, "I need you to watch our backs from this position. And since you're the only one with an energy weapon, I want to keep that advantage in reserve until necessary. We still have no idea who we're dealing with. Stay here, keep an eye on Rodney, and you can join us as soon as we clear the meadow."

Sam looked away to indicate that her command wasn't up for discussion and turned to Walker, hoping the large man's agitated shuffling was agreement.

"Walk in a straight line and check the ground on every step. Don't put your foot on anything other than grass and don't step on any freshly overturned dirt. If anyone takes a shot at us, hit the ground and get back to shelter."

"Yes, ma'am."

Sam touched her radio. "Lorne, Walker and I are going to approach Sheppard. Stay on your toes. The problem may be at the…source." She finished with a glance at the still sagging John.

"Now you think they booby-trapped _Sheppard_?" McKay exclaimed, the fit finally bursting past the man's already-limited restraint. "What possible advantage could setting a trap at this point serve? And even if someone was able to think hard enough to come up with a booby-trap that Sheppard couldn't wiggle out of, _unconscious_, then I really think I should be the one to go and, you know, diffuse it."

Sam blinked, surprised by the sharp turn McKay's rant had taken. It took her a moment to regroup her argument, and she checked her P-90 as she did so, unable to stifle a small grin. Rodney had come a long way since she'd first met him at the SGC.

"Thanks anyway, McKay. But I'm sure I'll be able to handle whatever might be there, and if there is a firefight on the way, I'm a better shot than you." She smacked the cartridge into the weapon for emphasis. Rodney glared back.

"I'd rather go with her," Walker agreed mildly and Rodney just added him to the glare.

"Thanks for the backup," he spat. Walker just shrugged.

"Shouldn't you be going?" Rodney snapped at last. "Sheppard's bleeding out while we're chit-chatting!"

Sam rather agreed. With a determined step, she broke cover and entered the clearing. Nothing happened. Sam kept her eyes on every inch of the meadow at once. Goosebumps rose on her arms and neck when then wind whipped up once more, then passed over the treetops, leaving behind a thick mugginess. Walker appeared behind her and together they walked further into the meadow with slow, careful steps.

It seemed to grow more still, the closer they got to Sheppard. It wasn't until she was standing at his feet and Walker was carefully crouching beside him, that Sam allowed her P-90 to drop from firing position. She touched her radio.

"Lorne, we're clear so far. No signs of anything nasty in the meadow. Caught a few tracks, though. Keep the perimeter clear while I check Sheppard."

With that, she crouched to kneel beside John, opposite Walker who was unzipping his bag and touching John lightly at his wrist and throat. The Colonel was still slumped and her estimate of his condition didn't improve any upon closer inspection. He'd been stripped of his Kevlar vest and his uniform shirt had been ripped open and hung loosely over his t-shirt that clung to his chest in a wet, sticky mess.

Tearing her gaze from his bloody, pale face, she carefully scrutinized every inch of the ground around where he was propped. She saw no fresh earth, no wires, no rope, no…anything. She blew out a breath in frustration. It still felt wrong.

"Why go to the trouble of an elaborate abduction if you're only going to dump the guy in a field for us to find an hour later? It makes no sense," she muttered to herself.

"Maybe the point was for us to find him dead," Walker answered grimly, his movements increasing in urgency. "He's in shock and his vitals are off, depressed. I'm no expert but I suspect he's been drugged or poisoned." He pointed to a pair of puncture wounds on John's neck and held Carter's gaze until she nodded.

"I need to get a better look at the chest wound. Can you help me get his shirt off? We need to lie him down."

"We need to get him to Atlantis," Sam correctly firmly.

"Yup," was Walker's fervent reply.

John's arms were twisted behind him in an unnatural angle, so she assumed they were tied behind his back. She caught Walker's eye and together they leaned John forward far enough to see the rough simple rope that bound his wrists. Sam quickly drew her knife and cut through the dry, prickly fibers.

"They tied him with rope? As advanced as they appear to be and they use rope?" Nothing seemed to make sense and Sam felt her confusion growing into almost suffocating frustration.

"Help me get the top shirt off." Walker repeated, his focus entirely on John.

Sam spread the fabric of his uniform shirt, then worked gently, to wrestle his right arm out of the sleeve. She almost had it off when she saw a tiny pinprick of light peeping through the hole in John's t-shirt. She froze, then snatched for Walker's hand that was just about to begin cutting the t-shirt open.

"Stop! Sergeant, sit back for a second and let me look at…that."

Walker froze at her sharp tone and did as she asked while Sam brushed her fingers over the torn edges of the hole, then carefully peeled the sticky t-shirt away from John's chest to roll the hem above the wound. Once the shirt was pushed up, they could just make out the dart or arrow or whatever had pierced John's shoulder. The point was embedded deeply and the wound was still oozing blood in a thick trail. Even Sam knew there was a major artery that traveled along the collar bone and into the arm and the continued bleeding couldn't be a good thing.

The shaft of the dart - Sam decided to call it - tapered to a very fine wire with a tiny, glowing blue light at the tip. It looked something like fiber optic thread and was buried to the edge of torn flesh. She thought of several very unladylike words she'd like to say, but only allowed the simple, "Well, damn." to escape. "Walker, what do you make of that?"

"Some kind of electronic device is buried in there. I'm worried about the bleeding, though. The artery may be compromised and pulling out this…whatever it is, may damage the artery further. I can't remove it here. Dr. Keller will have to do it on Atlantis."

"I was afraid of that. McKay?" Sam called, with only a small glance over her shoulder.

"I'm here," McKay answered, sounding breathy as he did when nervous or when he'd had to move more than 10 meters. He flopped to one knee next to Sam looking guilty and a bit surprised that she'd noticed him, but Sam had heard him coming long before he announced himself.

"You were supposed to stay under cover." Her words were for Rodney, but she was looking at Ronon who'd also appeared to crouch next to Walker, his hand on John's leg and his eyes troubled as he studied John's bloody face.

"There's nothing else here," Ronon answered with conviction. "The tracks are the same as I saw in the forest where Sheppard was abducted. They lead away from this rock to where a ship rested. Grass is dead. It sat here for several days or weeks, but not long enough to wear down to bare earth."

Sam jerked her head in a nod, more impressed than annoyed. Sheppard's people were skilled, she had to give them that, despite their seeming inability to wait for orders. "Rodney, you recognize the technology? I'm getting very low level energy readings from the wound, but I can't quite pin it down. It seems familiar, somehow, though."

"I don't know about familiar. It's not Ancient. It's not broadcasting anything at the moment, either, so it's not a homing device."

"At the _moment_," Sam repeated pointedly, bobbing her scanner up and down as she thought.

Walker had already hooked an IV into John's opposite arm, and had returned to cutting open the soggy t-shirt. He'd already slapped a quick bandage over the deepest cut along John's brow. From the spatter of scratches and cuts, Sam guessed that John had been hit by flying debris or shrapnel. Walker's expression grew more fixed, the longer they sat there. Blood continued to ooze down John's exposed chest in thick red globs, carving fresh trails through a smeared crust of the stuff.

"Ma'am, can I at least treat the wound?" Walker blurted at last.

"Treat the wound to the best of your ability, Sergeant because, for now, we can't take him to Atlantis." She felt the words like a pronouncement of doom.

"What! He just told you he can't take the dart out _except _back at home." Rodney's voice was sharp.

"I know that Rodney. But we can't take this thing to Atlantis. For all we know, it's programmed to go off when it's removed."

"We don't know that!" McKay sputtered. Ronon was glaring just as fiercely.

"We don't know it's not and it fits. Why kidnap a guy, then leave him for us to find?" She answered her own question, "To get your targets to take the guy home where the trap will do the most damage. Walker may even be right that we were expected to find him dead and take him home without inspecting the wounds thoroughly."

McKay opened his mouth to argue, then froze, thinking. "You could be right. The signature we're seeing is consistent with a battery. It does have enough power to transmit a signal or interface with another device if it wanted to."

"And I really don't want to find out why it wants to," Sam finished harshly. Rodney slumped, defeated.

"We take it home, the device activates, sends a homing signal, or uploads a virus or something and then…"

"Something bad," Sam finished.

There is was. The other shoe. She'd felt it hovering over her head since Rodney saw Sheppard's transponder reactivate.

"What about the Daedalus?" Ronon snapped, sounding as frustrated as Sam felt.

"Halfway to the Milkyway."

Walker was flapping a field compress open. "Help me lie him down."

Sam reached for an arm, then grabbed a shoulder when John suddenly groaned and shuddered against the rock.

"Hold still, Colonel," Sam soothed as John groaned and twitched again. His chin bobbed off his chest and then his head jerked up and his eyes snapped open in sudden consciousness, if suspect alertness.

"Crap!" John growled and Sam found herself clutching his other shoulder, too, to keep him from sliding sideways as he writhed.

"John, you're OK. Ronon and Rodney are here with me," she soothed. There was a flash of recognition in John's groggy eyes, but he was clearly not fully awake yet.

"Colonel?" he panted, then writhed again. He raised his arms as if to bat away their touch. "Bullet…hit me. No! Let me go!"

"We know, John," Rodney interjected hastily, wrestling with the rest of them to hold John still from the drug-addled thrashing. "Do you know who sent the singing bullets? Who did this to you? Can you tell us about the device in your chest?"

Sam frowned at McKay, but realized that he was right – they needed the information. And she knew as well as McKay that John wasn't a man who needed sympathy to get the job done. McKay's grip on John's leg offered it anyway. Sam added her own fierce support around his wrist when she saw him glance down at his chest as if noticing the hole for the first time. His mouth twisted into a grimace and he rolled his head back against the rock.

"McKay?" he gasped, calming down.

"In person."

"Device…in there?"

"You have a small object imbedded in your shoulder giving off an energy signature. We were hoping you could tell us more about that."

John shook his head, took several deep breaths and when he opened his eyes again, Sam saw a little more life in them. His gaze flicked over the faces gathered around him then settled on her. She tried real hard not to look as worried as she felt.

"What do you remember, John?" she prompted.

"In the woods following bullets. Not heat seeking. Tracked…me."

"The darts tracked you? They came after you specifically?" She squashed a flare of anger. Her people _were _being targeted and that ticked her off.

"Yes. Saw them…pass Ronon on scanner."

"Do you know anything about what the device in your shoulder is supposed to do?" Rodney pressed.

John pursed his lips, then slowly shook his head. "No. Hurt like hell going in. Still does."

Ronon growled a feral curse at the admission but Sam leaned closer. "You remember that device being implanted? Did you get a look at who did this to you?" She gently shook John's arm to focus his attention on her face. "John, did you see who it was?"

John opened his mouth, then grinned a little, looking embarrassed. "Iron man," he whispered. Then, "…sorry. Drugged."

"Oh great. The guy's our only witness and he was hallucinating comic book action figures at the time," McKay chided, more gently than expected.

"Great…movie," John panted, then stiffened. A low growl rumbled deep in his throat, but he panted through the pain Sam could see growing in his face. A shiver rippled from his shoulders into his arms and then he sighed, sagging a bit more against the rock. Sam watched while Rodney tutted and Ronon tugged until John was more comfortable on his back. Walker started another IV in the other arm and packed gauze and anti-coagulant around the wound to plug up the constant seeping. When he was finished, the medic fixed Sam with a fierce gaze.

"I've done all I can do, here, ma'am. The bleeding is controlled, but I don't think I got it stopped. The Colonel needs surgery on Atlantis to get that damn thing out of there and stop the bleeding."

"Can't," John whispered before Sam could open her mouth to say the same thing. Even flat on his back and pale as a ghost, John had picked up on the danger, she thought, mildly impressed. Ronon and Rodney both threw her pleading looks, begging her to contradict what she knew they both understood.

"So what do we do? We can't leave him like…this." Rodney's voice had taken on a tone of desperation, and Sam followed his nervous glance at John's hands that had started to shake. She rose, brushed the dirt off her hands and planted them at her sides, unable to keep them from clenching into fists.

"We remove the device here. Jennifer is on standby and Jones is at the 'gate. She can perform the surgery in the jumper once the thing is out, we'll dash through and patch him up back up at home." Rodney looked agitated with skepticism that she understood all too well. She shared it.

"Then get Jennifer here," Ronon growled, almost frightening in his protectiveness. Sam returned the sentiment with a fierce nod of promise.

"Done." Sam touched her headset. "Jones, this is Colonel Carter. Contact Atlantis and have them bring Dr. Keller to my location with a jumper. Tell her to equip for surgery on site. Lorne, we'll set up shop around the jumper once it arrives."

"Got it," Lorne replied with easy professionalism. "We taking the Colonel home?"

"Not yet, Major." Sam looked at John who was beginning to shiver from head to toe and blew out a breath of frustration. A grumble of thunder rolled from the dark clouds over the trees. The deep rumble sounded like the sky itself was laughing at her. She sighed. "Not yet."


	5. Chapter 5

Teyla watched the Barter Room grow dim and gloomy along with the sky that peeked through the high windows. Only she and two others remained, leaving the room feeling empty and somber. The SO stood in a bored slouch by the door and the man at the communications station merely listened through headsets to whatever idle chatter was happening between the jumper still guarding the skies and Carter's search team.

She desperately wished to contact Sam and beg her for an update. She needed to know if John was truly at the coordinates they searched. She needed to know if he was…well. Once again, she almost asked the man at the desk to make contact, and once again, she restrained the impulse.

When the door to the Barter Room opened, she flung herself at the intruder, desperate to distract herself from the worry and the waiting. Silpa nodded politely to the SO, then lifted his chin in greeting as Teyla approached.

"Your friends have left?" he asked looking mildly surprised.

"They are searching the forest," was all she said. She would not reveal any more than that. She would not release them from her scrutiny on the chance that the search went…badly.

"I see. I will share my news with you alone, then."

"You have spoken with your men? What did you learn?" She heard her voice grow sharp and she didn't care. She was trapped in a lonely room, far from her friends with only one way to help. Silpa took a deep breath.

"I learned that the reason Pulo became frightened enough to call upon our friends from Atlantis was because he was also…lost for a time."

"Lost?"

"Yes. Pulo took three men with him into the forest. They were West of the village - ."

"West. That is where John went missing," Teyla interrupted.

"I noticed that similarity as well. Apparently, the guards lost sight of Pulo and ended up searching for him for quite some time. When they found him, he only demanded they return at once."

"Did he tell them what had happened?"

"He said nothing about why he had not answered their calls, but one of them said he was limping and seemed quite upset."

Teyla sagged in disappointment. Most likely the pompous man had simply twisted his ankle and been too stubborn to confess the embarrassment. She sensed Silpa's curiosity in her reaction.

"I see," she said and then took the few steps to the table where her jacket lay across an empty chair.

"You…are leaving?" Silpa asked as he watched her throw the jacket over her shoulders, an eyebrow raised in puzzlement.

"I am leaving this room, yes. Governor Silpa, will you please escort me to Pulo? I have a few more questions for the Trademaster that cannot wait."

Silpa grinned. "I would be quite happy to show you to the Trademaster. In fact, I wouldn't miss this for all the tradestones in the market."

Teyla smiled for the Governor, but it quickly left her lips as she and the faithful SO followed him out the door. She couldn't search for John in the forest. She had not been able to offer him protection or even companionship before he was taken. But she could do this. She could find out everything she could about this world and the strange technology that was responsible for John's absence.

She could only hope that her efforts would mean something. And that maybe, it might help bring him back.

* * *

><p>Sam looked at the clouds, looked at her watch, then sighed. A fat drop of rain landed on her cheek and the hiss of a rain line creeping over the forest from the west blew in with yet another gust of wind.<p>

"Walker, do you have a tarp?"

By the time they had dug out and opened a plastic ground cloth, buckets of water were dumping from a blackened sky. Ronon threw the tarp over his head and stood over Sheppard like a human tent pole with Walker and Rodney holding either end against the whipping rain. Sam crouched beside John while they waited for the jumper, noting with concern his pale complexion – what she could see under his scratched face.

Despite his fast breath that hinted at the pain he endured and the tremors she could see he was fighting to control, he lay relaxed and quiet, his hands folded across his stomach, looking like a man simply cloud gazing in a sunny meadow.

"You should really calm down, John," Sam said, checking the soggy bandage on his chest, "You're upsetting Rodney."

John chuffed in soft amusement, but his expression remained distant. He stared at the tarp over them without turning his head.

"You seem more alert. Do you think the drug you were given is wearing off?"

"Maybe. Hard to tell. Feel like crap."

"I can understand why," she chuckled sympathetically, but with a seed of doubt growing. He was playing the stoic card a little too hard for her liking. She knew men like that, the kind that pushed themselves until they'd gone too far over the edge to haul back out without a lot of prayer and worry. "Is there anything else you need?"

"I need this damn dart out of my chest so I can get back to looking for who put it there."

"Jennifer is on her way. But you're going to have to leave the looking to the rest of us for a while."

John shook his head, frustrated, the suddenly fixed her with a firm glare. Sam saw the stiffness of his movement, but his eyes were clear of the confusion she'd seen when he first awoke.

"Colonel, someone is targeting Atlantis. I can feel it. Whatever happens…to me, don't take any chances. Don't take this thing to Atlantis," he jabbed a thumb at his own chest, though the gesture was weak. Sam studied his fierce expression thoughtfully.

"Do you remember anything else about who abducted you?"

All the anger suddenly fled John's expression with an exhale of defeat. "I got nothing. Whoever dragged me away from the village was wearing armor or a helmet or something. I only got a glimpse through the drugs. I don't remember anything about how I got here except a vague impression of being carried like a kid. It's all just…weird."

A blast of wind shook the tarp and flung a mist of water under the ad hoc shelter and they fell silent, waiting. Sam swiped constant wetness away from her face. A grunt over her head jerked her attention upwards to Ronon who'd also been silently watching John.

"Call the jumper again," the tall man growled, looking angrier the wetter Sheppard got, though John himself reacted not at all to the soaking wind.

Sam was about to do just that when radio came to life over her headset of its own accord.

"Colonel Carter, this is Abramowicz in Jumper 3. I'm over the clearing now. I assume you want us to land as close to your, um, shelter as possible?"

"Affirmative, jumper 3. Glad you're here. Is Dr. Keller prepared to perform surgery?"

"Yes, ma'am. She's…not happy about it, but she's ready."

"Proceed, jumper 3. See you in a few." Sam closed the channel, looked at John who was listening in. "You ready, John?"

"If I say 'no' can I skip the surgery part and go straight to the lounging around on leave part?"

Sam pretended to consider. "No."

"Then I'm ready."

"Atta boy."

With that, Sam rose, and walked out into the rain to flag the jumper into position.

* * *

><p>John was cold, wet and …terrified. His back hurt so bad that he had to force himself to breathe. Every inhale felt like he was driving himself against Ronon's spear and he knew that half the moisture on his face was from cold sweats rather than rain.<p>

Every throbbing pulse in his shoulder only increased his sense of impending doom. He was certain the device inside him was up to no good. So certain, in fact, that he was afraid to move in case it set off the bomb or biological weapon, or massive burst of radiation he was beginning to imagine it contained.

The only thing that kept him from leaping up and running as far from his people as he could get was Carter. Despite her easy conversation, he saw her eyes glued to her palm scanner, constantly monitoring the device for any signs of activation. Rodney was doing the same, of course, from his miserable huddle at one end of the tarp, but Rodney was a friend. The experienced and seasoned Colonel Carter would be able to make the…tough…decisions that might be required where Rodney couldn't.

When the whine of the jumper grew loud enough to compete with the constant white noise of wind and rain, John braced for the ordeal though he remained outwardly relaxed, flat on his back on the sopping ground.

When at last he heard Jennifer's voice speaking urgently with Carter, he suppressed a deep shudder and answered her, soft "Nice souvenir you've picked up, there, Colonel," with a fairly smarmy "You should see the vase I bought yesterday. To die for."

Jennifer just tutted as she studied her medical scanner while poking his neck and wrist with cold fingers. Another medic from Atlantis, not military, knelt at his other side and was replacing the almost empty IV bag with a larger, fresh one. They muttered non-sensical medical words back and forth until John was about to scream with annoyance.

"Just give it to me straight, Jennifer. Can you get it out?" he snapped. She gave him her full attention and it was unnerving.

"The device, or dart, or whatever you call it is barbed and embedded very close to the subclavian artery. I agree with Sgt. Walker's concern that it may already be damaged, though honestly you'd be dead if it were any more than a tiny nick."

"I'm so relieved," John answered sarcastically. "So…?"

"So, it's touchy, John. We're talking delicate surgery to minimize collateral damage as the dart is removed. I'd really prefer - ."

"Not going to happen, doc," John interrupted before Carter could. He knew that Jennifer needed it to be his decision or the good-intentioned doctor would fight for better conditions with the ferocity of a tiger. He held her gaze until she lowered her eyes to fuss with the bandage on his chest again.

"In that case, can we at least do this in the jumper? Or do I have to ask Ronon here to sterilize rain drops?"

"The jumper is fine, Doctor." Carter did answer this time and John was grateful. His back was flaring again from the tension. He heard Carter ordering a couple of his guys to come lug him around and took a couple of gasping breaths before he realized Jennifer was staring at him, her expression calculating.

"What else, John?" she asked softly, correctly interpreting the pain that must be plastered all over his face.

"Back hurts," he admitted, just as softly, flicking a look at Ronon and hoping his friend couldn't hear. Ronon was distracted by the bustle outside the tarp, so he went on, barely louder than a whisper, "feeling pretty numb below my shoulders, doc. Everything's tingly down there."

Jennifer's face grew more solemn, but to his relief, she kept her reaction private. "How?"

"Singing bullet caught me in the back. Kevlar stopped it, but…"

"It's still a hell of a blow," she finished. John just nodded. "Sam! There's a backboard in the jumper. Let's move him on that," she shouted and John flinched, but Jennifer covered for him by adding, "It's a more stable platform and we can lay it across the aisle in the jumper for better access as I'm doing surgery."

"Thanks," he whispered. She just poked at her scanner.

"I don't read any cracked vertebrae, but the numbness worries me. Let's play it safe, OK?"

John just snorted. Safe was rarely in his vocabulary.

The only good thing about the next five minutes was that the rain let up from Niagara falls to a spring drizzle. Ronon fussed and tried to hold the tarp over John's head once they were moving, but gave up when it only flapped away in the breeze. At either end of the board he now lay upon, Lorne and Walker's feet splushed in the saturated ground, each careful step agony against John's back. Frankly, the backboard sucked – the unyielding surface only pressing into his bruised back with relentless impact.

He was gasping around the pain when the familiar ceiling of the jumper's rear hatch finally floated into view. Lorne and Walker wedged him sideways across the aisle and then were turning to join the rest of the search team in their soggy vigil outside when the overhead lights in the jumper flickered, then went out.

"Turn the lights back on!" Jennifer exclaimed just before a curse and a puzzled, "What the?" drifted to him from the cockpit.

When Abramowicz next called out an alarmed, "Colonel Carter! Dr. McKay! Can you come look at this!" John couldn't stand it and writhed on the board to try to see into the front.

Carter and Rodney fairly leaped over him to shove their way into the cockpit, both waving their scanners in front of them. Inevitably, Rodney pivoted and aimed the scanner right back at…John.

"The device is activated! It's interfacing with the jumper's database."

"Stop it," John croaked, at the same time Sam called, "Can you jam the signal?"

"I'm trying. The first thing it did was shut down all power to any system that's not directly related to the database, so I've got no access to anything that could jam it. The device itself seems to have uploaded a virus or program that it's executing within the database itself."

"Get it out," John spat, scrabbling for the bandage on his chest until Jennifer snapped out of shocked stupor to grab for his hands and wrestle them away. John groaned, then threw a pleading look at Carter, "then get ME out. Get me away from the jumper if this thing is controlling it!"

"It wouldn't matter, now, John," Rodney blurted, still frantically poking at his scanner. "It's done its damage."

John slumped against the board in defeat.

"It's still broadcasting something, Rodney," Sam contradicted.

"I know, but it's more of a carrier signal than a data burst. I don't think even destroying it at this point would stop the virus and it's got enough power to transmit from a significant distance. He couldn't _get_ far enough away to…uh, oh."

John gritted his teeth in fury as Rodney flung himself into the co-pilot chair and began to slap at the control panel.

"Damn!"

"What happened?" Jennifer asked, sounding meek.

"The jumper just broadcast a copy of the program to our jumper in orbit. They've lost power, too."

"McKay!" Sam sounded as furious as John felt.

"They're dead in space, Sam. We've lost control over both jumpers' communication arrays."

"Life support?"

"There's no way to know, but if the virus did shut down life support, they've got maybe twenty minutes of viable atmosphere before it gets too cold and…"

"And they suffocate," Jennifer finished.

John closed his eyes. "Crap…" he whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

Teyla spotted Pulo gesticulating beside one of the colorful booths that lined the famous Ahk-ho-lido market's premiere vendor street. A humid gust of wind fluttered the cloth canopies of the stalls and misted her face with the impending rain that followed close behind.

Silpa nodded her in the Trademaster's direction and Teyla found her heart racing with the best kind of anticipation, the kind that fueled her resolve and bolstered her courage. When she planted herself in front of Pulo, her very feet felt anchored to the ground with determination.

"Trademaster Pulo, I will speak with you now," she said,

Pulo's eyebrows went up at the severity of her tone and she saw a moment of defiance in his eyes, no doubt sparked by the demand in her tone. Fortunately, the shopkeepers Pulo was berating were eager to give up his attention and ducked out of sight with almost undignified haste. Teyla stepped close.

"What happened in the forest?"

"I don't understand," Pulo drawled, adopting a lazy arrogance.

"You were missing for several minutes the morning you took your men into the forest in pursuit of the singing bullets. Why did you not answer their hails?"

"I can't not imagine any reason why my business with my people is of any interest to you," Pulo snorted, but Teyla saw a twitch along his jaw and felt a thrill of triumph. He _was_ hiding something.

"Your business is my business when it will help my people. What did you see and what are you hiding?"

"Hiding!"

Teyla took one last step. Her toes touched Pulo's and she looked up into his face with a ferocity she seldom found herself using. She felt a smile slide over her lips when the Sergeant at her shoulder also stepped close, enjoying the game.

"You will tell me what you saw, now, or you will join me back at the Barter Room where I will not be so…polite…in my asking."

Pulo's face went white with the threat, but Teyla had read his card correctly – he was a bombastic buffoon on the surface, but inside he was nothing but a coward.

"Very well!" He spat at last, throwing his hands in an overbroad gesture of acquiescence. "I will tell you what I saw in the forest the morning we pursued the singing bullets, but I see no reason why this should be of any help to you."

Teyla held her tongue, allowing him the small, face-saving declaration. At her gesture of impatience, he went on.

"We were several minutes' walk west of the village when a reflection of light caught my eye. My men were spread thin and I trained under the finest security officer of our generation when I began my apprenticeship in the market, so I felt no fear in investigating the oddity."

"Go on."

"I was studying some unusual tracks in a muddy patch when I was struck from behind. I fell and a machine grabbed my ankle and heaved me off the ground."

"A machine? What kind of machine!" Teyla exclaimed. _How could this pompous fool believe this was not important? Damn his arrogant cowardice._

"I…did not get a good look. I was dangling upside down and my robes were covering my face. It was quite painful. I just know that I saw tracks and that the grip on my ankle was very hard, like metal, and cold."

"Surely you saw something!"

"Saw, no. But the machine spoke to me. It said 'Where do you reside?' I informed my attacker that I lived in the village and that my men would be there momentarily to rescue me so the thing tossed me down and disappeared."

Teyla was furiously studying the man's face, trying to put all the pieces of the story together. Pulo was clearly hiding embarrassment. She would bet money that he had cowered in the dirt before and after the attack, then run home like a scared rabbit to call the most powerful people he could think of to protect him. But she saw truth in most of his words. Unfortunately, that truth revealed very little and she fought down choking disappointment.

"Very well. Would you be so _kind_ as to show us where you encountered this machine on the chance that there is some evidence it left behind that we may use?"

"You want me to take you into the forest?" Pulo was clearly gearing up to reject the idea, but Teyla just shook her head.

"Sergeant, do you have a scanner?" she asked of the SO beside her, knowing that he did.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered and began to tug the pearly white Ancient device out of his tac vest. Carter had left the valuable tool with the security officer in the event that either the singing bullets or the alien craft returned to the village.

"Would you please call up a map of the village and surrounding area to show the Trademaster?"

The Sergeant poked for a moment, then held the scanner out to Pulo to view the display that he had called up. "Can you point to the place?" Teyla said, with a gesture at the device.

The Trademaster's expression was so torn between puzzlement, curiosity and avarice that it was almost comical. He reached out eager hands and snatched the glowing box away from the Sergeant to peer into the screen, studying the images ruthlessly.

The Sergeant opened his mouth to protest, then hesitated, uncertain whether it was polite or wise to do so. Teyla stifled genuine disgust, then froze. The box was still glowing?

"One moment, Trademaster," she snapped and snatched the box away from Pulo. He looked disappointed, but unsurprised. The box went dark in her hands. Teyla exchanged a surprised look with the Sergeant.

When she thrust the scanner back into Pulo's hand, he arched an eyebrow in annoyance, until the scanner glowed back to life and his expression went jealous again.

"You have the ATA gene," she breathed. Pulo simply stared at the box with undisguised greed. She snatched it out of his hands one last time and returned it to the Sergeant. "Pulo, answer one more question for me, and then I will leave you be."

"Very well."

"The singing bullets – did they return to the forest after flying through the marketplace?"

"No. They did a fine job of damaging my house, several stalls, and the Barter Room. You were there when they hit the walls last night."

"But they never attacked any of your people?"

"No. Most of us fled inside when the bullets flew, but there were those that remained outside by choice or circumstance. The bullets never once threatened any of my people."

"Were _you_ ever outside when they flew?"

Pulo was quiet with thought for several moments. "No. I was in my house and the Barter Room when the walls were struck."

Teyla sucked in a sharp gasp. Pieces of this particular puzzle were starting to fit.

"Thank you, Pulo. You did not intended it, but you have just been a great help. I will allow myself to be grateful. Good day."

She spun on her heel and left a confused Pulo behind. Silpa and the Sergeant followed, also looking puzzled.

"I admit I do not understand your excitement, Teyla," Silpa asked after several steps.

"You don't need to, Governor Silpa. I thank you as well for your help, but I must return immediately to the Barter Room and communicate with my people."

"Very well. Will you be joining them on their trek to retrieve Colonel Sheppard?"

Teyla cocked her head, puzzled herself, then realized that Silpa was unaware of the full extent of their technology and capabilities.

"No. They are already two days walk from here. I will contact them through the radio."

"Two days? Then how did they…?"

"They traveled in flying ships we call jumpers. Colonel Sheppard's transponder signature – um, a signal that we can detect from very far away - was found in the forest. I must tell them what I have learned."

Silpa looked shocked, but Teyla was too hurried to coddle the man's amazement. Atlantis did not hide their technology, but neither did they flaunt it. Jumpers were used discreetly around cultures that would find them either frightening or dangerously valuable.

"Will your people return Colonel Sheppard to your home for treatment in this flying machine?"

"Eventually. If he indeed has been found." As she spoke the words, she felt the flutter of fear return and desperately hoped they were true.

"Of course. I see. Then I will leave you to your own concerns. Good Morn, Teyla of the Athosians."

Silpa bowed a farewell, then turned into a street that Teyla recognized as the one that led to the government buildings. She moved even faster, breaking into a heavy run towards the Barter Room. The SO jogged beside her, now looking worried.

"You think that Pulo guy's having the ATA gene is important?" he asked, voicing his curiosity as they finally swung the doors to the Barter Room open.

"I hope so," she answered, gesturing to get the communications officer's attention even as she was racing to his side. "I hope so."

* * *

><p>Sam Carter recognized that all-too-familiar rush of gut clenching adrenaline and could almost feel her head heat up, she was thinking through scenarios so fast. At the moment, all her neurons were firing back "not enough information" so she pulled up behind Rodney, still at the jumper's co-pilot panel, and listened in. The man's mutterings were almost as useful as a direct data feed into the situation.<p>

"This shouldn't be happening. You can't just tap into Ancient technology willy nilly. There are too many safeguards, the ATA gene requirements, for example. The data transfer protocols. No one is supposed to know how to do that. Well, except us, of course. And none of us would do something like this. Who the hell is that Iron Man of Sheppard's?"

"Colonel Carter? This is Teyla. I need to speak with you right away."

The words in Sam's ear were urgent, even through the soft hiss of radio interference. From the tilt of Rodney's head, Sam could tell that he was listening in, even as he was still slapping uselessly at the panel.

"Go ahead, Teyla."

"I have just spoken with Pulo again. He has told me that he encountered what he described as a machine in the forest several days ago."

"A machine?" Carter asked. Rodney bolted out of his seat to stand with his hand on his ear, now listening intently.

"Sheppard's Iron Man! This Pulo guy saw the thing that hauled John across the forest?"

"You have found him?" Teyla's voice was ever so slightly hesitant. Sam leaped to reassure her, kicking herself for not doing so sooner.

"Yes, he's here."

"Is he well?"

"He's alive, but injured and there are other…complications. Teyla, can Pulo tell us any more about this machine he saw and what it wanted?"

"That is why I have interrupted you." Teyla's voice sounded half relieved, half worried again. "From Pulo's description of his encounter, I believe that the singing bullets were designed to locate and target humans with the ATA gene. I also believe this machine or being, or whatever it is, is also looking for Ancient technology. It spoke to Pulo and asked him his planet of origin. When Pulo admitted that he lived on this world, then it simply threw him down and let him go."

Sam looked at Rodney. Rodney stared for a full three-count, then barged past her to wave his scanner over John's chest. John was propped up on his elbows, and fighting to keep himself there, clearly against Jennifer's wishes. The doctor kept shooting him nasty looks as she puttered around him. John's face was slick with the effort.

"What…Rodney?" he growled at McKay's sudden attention.

"Teyla thinks your Iron Man is looking for ATA technology. That the singing bullets target people with the gene, which explains why it made a beeline for you and ignored Ronon. The rest is making sense, too." Rodney sounded excited and Sam had to agree.

"Thank you, Teyla. We'll stay in touch." Sam closed the channel, hating the frustration in the young woman's farewell at the other end. John managed a thoughtful look at Rodney's answer.

"It wants the ATA? We've seen that before. Genii?"

Sam could see that John was shaking with the effort to stay upright so she gave Rodney an elbow in the side and a pointed nod.

"What? Oh, right. Lie down, Sheppard. I want to analyze the carrier signal from this device more thoroughly."

John complied with a sigh of relief that matched Jennifer's. Sam fidgeted, resisting the temptation to run her own scans. Figuring this stuff out wasn't her job anymore. As much as she itched to dive into the science, she grudgingly acknowledged that Rodney had more experience with Ancient tech and the surprises of the Pegasus galaxy…not that she'd ever admit as much in his presence.

"No, this tech is way beyond the Genii. If my suspicions are correct - There!" Rodney exclaimed. Sam crowded close to peer at his scanner as he went on. "The carrier wave is incorporating ATA data."

"It's using John's DNA to authenticate its integration with the jumper's computers?"

"Exactly. This is sophisticated stuff, Sam. Not only did they – whoever _they_ are – figure out a workaround to access ATA protected technology, they are sufficiently familiar with the tech to use it once they got in."

"So, are we dealing with Ancients here?" Jennifer asked timidly from the other side of John. Sam suddenly realized that the woman's hand was wrapped fiercely around John's wrist to keep tabs on his pulse and her eyes were glued to her medical scanner. "Could anyone else have done this?"

"Doesn't matter," John growled, his eyes closed in frustration. "Take it out. Now. If being attached to me is allowing it to mess with the jumper, then unattach it. Maybe if the virus can't continue to authenticate, you'll be able to fix it."

"He's right, Sam. I don't think disabling this device will stop the virus directly, but if it's still active, it can simply keep overwriting anything we do think of to stop it. Furthermore, if Teyla's right, Sheppard's Iron Man may have intended us to take it home before it activated. If this virus was running loose in the city…"

"I get it," Sam finished, hearing her voice go hard.

"We shouldn't even dial the stargate, Sam. This virus was clever enough to detect the 2nd jumper and copy itself. If we make contact with Atlantis, it may do the same thing without us even having to take it there."

"Sam…" John whispered, fixing her with a look that was determined and pleading at the same time. She took a deep breath.

"Right. Jennifer, how fast can you remove the device?"

Jennifer looked suddenly alarmed. "Fast? Fast really shouldn't be in this conversation! It will take time to set up acceptable monitoring for sedation and prepare the area for sterile –."

"Doc, no time. Pilots in space don't have…time." John interrupted Jennifer's startled speech before Sam got the chance. Sam held her tongue, letting John speak for himself. "Get it out. Please," he finished.

Sam could see the conflict on the doctor's face.

"Jennifer, we don't have a choice. I know it's a risk, but it's one I'm willing to take. I can make that an order if you need me to." Sam backed up the request with her authority, though she knew that Jennifer only answered to her in administrative capacity. Sam needed the young doctor to understand the larger stakes. John threw her a grateful glance.

Jennifer glared for another moment longer, then gave a sharp nod and looked away. "Alright, then. We'll go with local anesthetic and only as much sedation as I can recommend with limited monitoring resources…"

She followed the admission with a spat of medical jargon to her nurse and the two began to pull out medicines and a field kit of sterilized surgical tools. Sam turned to Rodney who seemed to have momentarily forgotten his scanner and was staring into space somewhere in the direction of John's face.

"McKay," she prompted. It took a moment for him to pull his attention back to her and she had the strangest thought that Rodney might actually be worried about someone besides himself. Again she thought, _Who would have known_!

"As soon as the device is destroyed, we need to figure out a way to intercept the virus and stop it from interfering with power, life support and communications."

"Right," he said and abruptly threw himself back into the cockpit to continue his attempts at the dashboard.

"And tell Teyla and Walker at the gate not to dial Atlantis for any reason."

"Yeah. Right again." Rodney muttered just loud enough for Sam to believe he'd do it.

Before she joined him, she stepped close to John, put her hand on his forearm.

"Still ready, Colonel?" she asked. John threw her a terrified grin.

"Piece of cake," he rasped.

"Good."

"Ronon, could you come in here and hold Colonel Sheppard down so he doesn't move when I'm digging around inside him," Jennifer called loudly through the back of the jumper door towards the Satedan who had been hovering under the tarp just outside in the rain.

John's eyes went a bit wider and Sam chuckled. "Don't worry, John. She's just trying to scare you into behaving."

"It's working," he muttered.

"We'll get you home, soon," she promised.

"Just get my men home, Sam."

"They're my men, too, John," she retorted. "And so are you."

John blew out a satisfied breath. Closed his eyes.

"Ronon, put on these gloves. And then hold this flashlight exactly where I tell you." Jennifer was still sounding ticked, though she was working very fast and seemed nearly ready to begin as far as Sam could tell.

"Oh, boy," John breathed. Sam smiled again, gave him one last encouraging pat and followed Rodney into the cockpit.


	7. Chapter 7

Ronon followed Jennifer's instructions without comment. He could tell she was frightened, but he knew her fear was for her patient and not for herself. He hadn't always known this, but he knew it now.

"Ronon, put a hand on his opposite shoulder, and shine the flashlight as steady as you can on the incision area."

Jennifer sounded cross and a slight smile found Ronon's lips. She always sounded angry when someone else's suffering disturbed her. Apparently, Sheppard noticed his amusement, because his friend snorted goofily.

"Think s'its funny?" John slurred. Jennifer had given him something to dull his senses, but from her continued scowl, she didn't think it was enough to keep him from the pain of the surgery.

"No," Ronon admitted simply.

"Oh. Good."

John blinked hard a few times, then blew out a huff of air that Ronon recognized as an effort to control pain…or fear.

"I got your back," Sheppard, he reassured, placing his hand firmly on John's upper arm as Jennifer had requested and pressing his shoulder into the board he lay across.

"Back hurts," John snorted. Ronon cocked an eyebrow in puzzlement.

"I'm ready," Jennifer said finally, taking her place across from Ronon. She was wearing gloves, surgical hat and mask, though the precautions seemed silly to Ronon. A steady, humid breeze blew in from the open rear of the jumper. The floor below them was muddy and slick. Still, it was barely ten minutes since they'd lost contact with their men in space. The cautious doctor had prepared as quickly as he knew was reasonably possible.

"John, tell me if you feel anything," she prompted, then poked gently around the wound. John's chest was also draped with a sterile cloth that clung to his skinny ribs like a wet towel. When Sheppard neither flinched, nor called out a warning, Jennifer threw Ronon a single look of terror, then lowered her knife.

Ronon looked away. He'd seen blood in his young life. Lots of it. Sometimes even in the act of healing. But he could never shake a sense of unease at the sight of someone cutting on someone else. Especially when that someone was a friend and was looking back at you.

A long minute passed, then another. Jennifer cut deeper. Ronon felt John's shoulder tense under his hand and he shifted to press harder.

"I see the barbs," Jennifer said, as if talking to herself. "It's in there damn good."

John groaned low in his throat when Jennifer dug deep into the now gaping wound with an instrument that looked like kitchen tongs to Ronon. Ronon swallowed hard and concentrated on keeping his flashlight steady that was threatening to shake and holding onto Sheppard who already was.

Another groan was followed by a shudder and Jennifer cursed, then snapped, "Hold him still! Pat, take the light. Ronon, hold his head and lean over his chest."

Ronon shoved the light into the nurse's hand, then leaned over John, laying one forearm over his friend's forehead and the other across his chest and pinning the arm under his side. John was tense, armed like a bow.

"Almost there, Sheppard," Ronon grunted, knowing he had no real control over John's movement. It was really up to John. "Don't move. It'll be out in a minute."

John nodded ever so slightly, and clenched his jaw tighter, taking whistling gasps through gritted teeth. Ronon was aching from his own tension and the awkward position when he felt John go cold beneath him. His friend's face was grey with pain and his eyes were screwed so tightly shut, the creases lined his face to the temple.

"Hurry," Ronon gasped.

"I'm...I'm sorry," Jennifer pleaded. "It's too close to the artery. If I screw it up, he bleeds out before I can patch it back up."

"You're doing fine," Ronon reassured, bracing harder against another deep twitch. "Just…do it faster."

"Okay, okay."

Jennifer bent her head, shutting out everything but her patient and Ronon crooned encouragement to Sheppard, his own heart cut by every escaping gasp.

"There!"

Ronon looked up with a jerk and felt his mouth split in a wide grin as Jennifer held a slightly glowing bit of wire and glass in the air with the tongs. Sheppard took a great gasping breath and voiced a long, low, growl of relief.

"Give it to me," Colonel Carter demanded and Ronon suddenly noticed that she was kneeling on the bench at Sheppard's head, watching with an expression of furious compassion. Jennifer dropped the thing into Carter's open hand. Carter clenched a triumphant fist around it and only had to look at Ronon to ask the question.

"Take it," he snarled.

She snatched his blaster out of his holster and darted out of the jumper. A satisfying whine of energy followed by the sizzle of wet mud and fried electronics drifted through the door. Ronon kept his body over Sheppard's while Jennifer stuffed the wound with gauze. The nurse was tearing open a large adhesive bandage.

"How's John?" Carter asked, returning with the charred remains of the object in her hand.

"He's…fine…" John gasped and Ronon stood up, keeping only his hands on Sheppard's arm. John was breathing deeply and still had his eyes clamped shut, but he was no longer tense and shuddering.

"I'm packing the wound for travel. I want to close the wound and stitch him up under sterile conditions on Atlantis. When can we go?" Jennifer added, the snap back in her voice.

Ronon looked at Carter, anxious for the answer himself. John's pasty ass looked too pale even for him.

Carter stiffened and the glow of the small success they'd achieved frosted over.

"We've taken an important step. Thank you for that. But we're not out of the woods yet." For an instant, Ronon saw a steely look of resolve pass over the Colonel's face, which was quickly replaced with a weary shrug. She hesitated, then finished clambering over John's feet to hover behind McKay again.

Ronon flicked a look at Sheppard's face and saw the glitter of eyes under hooded lids.

"Well, least we're out of the rain," Jennifer offered hopefully, also noticing that John had gone tense again and trying some encouragement for his sake.

"Not all of us," John snarled. Ronon thumped him on the thigh.

"We'll get them down, Sheppard. McKay and Carter will figure it out."

John shook his head slightly, then closed his eyes, but Ronon knew he wouldn't sleep.

* * *

><p><em>Silpa cowered in the leaves at the feet of the metal man and only kept from whimpering in fear by muttering every curse in every language he could think of. He knew the words had no hope for saving his life, but they gave him courage. <em>

_"Where do you reside?" the metal man demanded. It's voice sounded grating and unnatural._

_"In...in the village by the Ring of the Ancestors. I was just hunting. I'll return to my camp. I'll return to my village just - ."_

_"Many come to your village for commerce?"_

_Silpa hesitated this time before answering. "We are the largest market among friendly planets. We have trade relationships with over two hundred worlds."_

_"I seek the control key and the ones who can manipulate Lantean technology."_

_Silpa's reply was even slower to find his voice as he struggled to understand. "The City of the Ancestors was destroyed by the Wraith years ago. Only the Athosians and the Newcomers know where it was before then. There are rumors that some Genii knew the address as well..."_

_"Many come to your village. Few carry the genetic code to access Lantean technology. I will search your village until I find the ones who harbor the control key."_

_"What do you mean 'search my village'?" Silpa found strength in indignation for his people. "We have no control key! We harbor no Lantean technology. I am governor of the Ahk-ho-lido market village and I will not permit you to disrupt our trade."_

_"When the ones I seek come to your village, I will discover them. When they return to Atlantis, I will find the key."_

_Silpa sucked in a deep breath, an unsettling dilemma forming in his mind. Atlantis were good trading partners. Good friends against the wraith. But what did friendship against the wraith mean if his home was destroyed by this thing?_

_"If you find these people you're looking for...you'll leave?"_

_"I will leave. I have no interest in pursuing commerce. Many come to your village creating a statistical advantage for my search, but you are of no use to me."_

_The metal man lifted its gloved arm and turned what could only be the barrel of some unimaginable weapon to Silpa's head. Terror grabbed him around the chest and squeezed all breath out._

_"Wait! I...may know who it is you seek. Let me go home and I'll...invite them to the market. They only come to trade once every season and you might have to wait weeks unless I help you."_

_The thing lowered its arm. "Your offer is acceptable. I will search your village until those that I seek are identified. I will place a device within the body of one who carries the genetic code required to access Atlantis's database. The body must be taken to Atlantis. I have observed that it is the custom of most human cultures to return the deceased to home soil for burial rituals."_

_Silpa shuddered. "Atlantis was destroyed," he repeated._

_"My evidence suggests otherwise."_

_Silpa's eyes grew wide with the revelation...and implications. If Atlantis was indeed intact, then he had just promised to aid in the exposure of and potential murder of one of the most powerful people in this galaxy. Ancestors help him._

_"In the event that you consider warning the persons you refer to," the metal man continued with an almost casual manner, "I advise you to keep your own welfare foremost in your decisions." _

_The arm rose again, and this time pointed into the forest. A streak of blue light pierced the shadowy undergrowth and impacted against an ancient, tall tree with an explosion of light and sound. Silpa buried his face in his hands._

_"I understand," he moaned as the sound of heavy footsteps faded into the distance..._

Silpa sat stiffly in the chair beside Teyla in the Barter Room. He had returned soon after retrieving a prized piece of technology from his offices, then feigned concern to be allowed to sit vigil with Atlantis's main contacts in the village.

The communications officer working with the clutter of machines they had brought murmured a constant patter into the receiver, calling again and again to the ship in space that they had all lost contact with.

Silpa shifted angrily, then quickly stilled the motion, lest he give his agitated thoughts away. He was a gifted liar, he was a politician after all, but even he was finding it hard to control his tumbling terror as the day unfolded around him. He done as promised, he'd asked Atlantis to come to the market, and the singing bullets sent by the metal man had found their target.

But he hadn't expected that target to be Colonel Sheppard, the most powerful and important of the Newcomers. And he hadn't known that they had ships and technology that would so easily foil the metal man's plans.

Silpa felt the noose tighten around his neck. He couldn't confess, not now. Not when Sheppard had already been injured. Not when he knew the metal man's intent was for his target to die. Not when he'd invited them here and hidden his secret from them for so long.

He'd had a glimmer of hope when he'd misdirected Teyla's ire at Pulo. For a moment, he'd hoped that the Atlantians would place any blame on the Trademaster and maybe even create an opening for Silpa to fill the man's role once they'd left.

But when Teyla told him of the ships that could rescue the Colonel from a great distance, it seemed that the Atlantians might slip out of the metal man's trap after all. And where would that leave Silpa?

When word came over the radio that they had removed the metal man's device from the Colonel and were working on defeating the "virus" that it had unleashed, Silpa felt a knot of ice settle in his stomach. The image of the flaming tree kept flashing through his mind. The metal man would believe he had warned them. It would come back for him and most likely his people, as well.

Teyla rose from her seat after the message from her people on the "jumper" and crossed the Barter Room to the man who still stood faithfully by the door. Silpa followed, meekly. He'd seen the guard also handle the technology that Teyla had been so shocked Pulo could activate. Oh, why hadn't the metal man chosen _him_ instead of Colonel Sheppard? Surely the Atlantians wouldn't have been nearly as efficient in their rescue if a mere soldier had gone missing?

With effort, Silpa returned his attention to Teyla who was speaking with an urgent snap.

"Sergeant, I am to relay the orders to you from Colonel Carter that no one is to dial home under any circumstance until Colonel Carter or Dr. McKay give their approval to do so. I have already informed Lt. Xiang at the Stargate of the same."

"Yes, ma'am," the soldier responded, his face calm but worried. He tapped the radio in his ear. "Major Lorne relayed the orders as well. Do you know what's going on? Are we stuck here?"

"We must only avoid opening a link between us and home, sergeant," she clarified. "Doing so may expose our base to the virus that has compromised both our jumpers."

The man muttered a curse. "Anything we can do?"

Teyla's sigh was pure frustration. "No. We are to wait and guard the stargate."

"Got it."

Teyla moved to return to her seat beside the radio, but Silpa felt panic closing in on him. With supreme effort, he plastered a careful smile on his lips and blocked her path with a slight bow of excusal.

"I must leave you again for a time," he managed, somewhat pleased that his voice sounded as sympathetic as he had intended. "Forgive my comings and goings. We are expecting a trading party from Belsa and I must at least make an appearance at the proceedings. I will excuse myself early from the meeting and return as soon as I can."

Teyla looked merely distracted, rather than annoyed, so Silpa grabbed her hand, solidifying his appearance of sympathy with the gesture of friendship of his culture.

"I am very relieved your people managed to remove the metal man's device from Colonel Sheppard. I await the good news that your other men are safe as well."

"Thank you, Governor. Your words are most appreciated in this troubled time. Atlantis will remember your kindness."

Silpa's stomach twisted, but he gave her hand one last squeeze, then left the Barter Room.

Once on the streets of his village he found a shadowed wall to press his back against. His hands began to shake and he spent long agonizing moments trying to control his breath. When his body was again under his control, he felt for the object he had hidden in his robes, drawing comfort from its solidity and slight hum of power against his ribs.

And then he left the shadows and turned onto the path that led to the Stargate.


	8. Chapter 8

John fought for every moment of consciousness like a swimmer who knew he'd drown if he gave in to the fatigue and shock. His back hurt. His chest hurt – the local anesthetic Jennifer had poked him full of did a fine job of making his shoulder and arm numb to the elbow, but the ache deep inside him was building to levels almost as bad as when she'd been digging around in there.

And none of that compared to the ache of being trapped, flat on his back, without any way to help his people who were in danger because of him in the first place.

Ronon hovered nearby. And yeah, that was the right word. In fact, if the big man didn't stop breathing and staring at him, John thought he might throw a punch. Well, he would if he could get his arm off the table. And he didn't think he could.

So he concentrated on listening in to Rodney and Carter bickering in the cockpit.

"Try rerouting the power through the – ."

"I already tried that, Sam. I don't have access."

Carter sounded reasonable, calm. Rodney on the other hand was working himself into the vapors. John found himself clenching his fists tightly. He needed to be there to help Rodney, too. As good as Sam was, John had noticed that she tended to get Rodney worked up rather than calmed down.

"Then cut power to the main core to wipe the virus and re-initialize with a clean -."

"I already tried that, too. Look, the program is not only controlling the power systems while it does whatever it's doing, it also completely locked out all access to any system we might use to work around it."

"How is it locking us out? Can we use a tablet to run an encryption cracker against it?"

"I thought of that," Rodney said after a beat and John thought _No you didn't!_ "But I think the problem is here."

Rodney must have pointed to something, because they were both quiet for a long moment. John twitched, angry he couldn't see what they were seeing.

"John, do you want something more for the pain," Jennifer was asking, but John just jerked his head in a refusal, desperate for some news. At last, he heard Rodney sigh, a frustrated huff of disgust. John could almost see him slumping in his imagination.

"I keep getting the same results. This code, here, is what is preventing us from getting in. I've tried everything I can think of to get through it, but I can't figure out even what it _is. _I'm sorry, Sam. I'm so sorry."

John groaned, but it wasn't from the discomfort of his body being really, really mad at him. Ronon slapped his thigh again, and this time, John didn't mind. He still might throw that punch, though. Into a very solid wall...

"Wait! McKay, this code looks familiar."

"No, it doesn't," Rodney whined. John wanted to smack him because Carter sounded like she was on to something. He tensed, listening as if he could hear what they were seeing through his ears.

"Yes, look here."

"That's the virus code. Every time we try to access any system through the console, directly or wirelessly, it -."

"Asks for authentication!" Sam's voice definitely had that edge of triumph John was familiar with. His foot started to jerk as if tapping against the floor. "If you combine the carrier wave the device in John's shoulder was broadcasting with this authentication request you get -."

"It's using ATA gene authentication to block us out!" Rodney interrupted yet again, his voice also going all eureka. John was overwhelmed by a surge of relief that he wrestled into a stoic gasp. They had it on the run. They'd figure it out. He relaxed just a bit, sliding deeper down the slippery slope of misery.

"So...why is it blocking me? I have the gene."

_Just figure it out, Rodney, _John begged. He wouldn't go under until he knew his men in the jumper were safe, but...he really needed Rodney to hurry.

"Because it's not asking for just any ATA authentication, it's asking for the specific genetic code it used to invade the system in the first place."

John had to concentrate and work Sam's sentence over in his head a few times. Rodney got there first.

"It's asking for Sheppard's ATA?"

"I think Walker nailed it when he guessed that the Iron Man's host was supposed to be dead. The stolen ATA activates the virus, then acts as a fool-proof authentication code because a dead man can't re-initialize the systems it's invaded."

"But Sheppard isn't dead, yet," Rodney blurted, then fell abruptly silent.

John almost chuckled. He took several deep breaths, arming himself, gathering his courage. There were whispers and footsteps around him, but he lay for another last moment willing his abused body into submission and forcing the pain down into a place where he could control it for a little while longer.

"John?" He felt a touch on his shoulder, cool and firm. Sam. "We have a little problem and we need your help," she said, managing to sound both commanding and apologetic at the same time.

John sucked in a deep breath, and heaved himself upright. He swung his legs over his makeshift table and braced against the muddy floor. His socks were immediately soaked in gritty, cold dampness. They'd taken his boots off before surgery.

He lifted his chin and looked Carter in the eye.

"I know," he said, simply, allowing himself to enjoy her look of surprise. "I know. Let's do this."

* * *

><p>Sam was surprised when John sat up smoothly from the wedged backboard and swung his feet off the edge. But she found herself not surprised at all when the look he gave her was determined and completely aware of the situation.<p>

"Good. You will have to initialize each system so Rodney can access it and clean out the virus. We are guessing that the program wasn't written to take an ATA match into consideration and that gives us an advantage.

"That advantage being, I'm not dead, yet," John quipped, with a half-smirk that was pure Sheppard.

"Exactly."

"Then help me into the cockpit before I am."

John lunged upright, then promptly sagged almost all the way to the floor. Sam grabbed for his arm – his undamaged side, thank God – and heaved, keeping him from going all the way down. Ronon cursed as she juggled and hurdled over the table to grab for John's waist on the other side.

When they got him sitting again, he'd gone white as a sheet and there was something in his face that was more alarming than the near fall – it was pure terror. She let him catch his breath, but fear of her own for the men in space above them forced her hand.

"Time's short, Colonel. Try again," she snapped, knowing he didn't need coddling. That, in fact, ignoring the weakness was probably what he wanted.

"I'm...ready..." he managed, sounding not nearly as sure of himself as before.

This time, John waited for Ronon and Sam to lift him and they half-supported, half-carried John past the second row and up to the pilot's seat. John's legs seemed to hold hardly any of his own weight. Abramowicz hopped up and Sam handed John to the pilot and stepped back for him and Ronon to lower John into the chair.

John was shirtless, only a large wad of bandage covered the upper half of his right side, and her angle gave her a glimpse of his back before he sat. She sucked in a shocked gasp of surprise. A large, dark and swollen bruise spread across John's back, smack between his shoulders. Centered almost between his spine and right shoulder blade, the bruise blackened to a greenish purple splotch the size of a big orange.

"Jennifer!" she snapped in an angry hiss into the rear of the jumper behind her.

"He said a singing bullet caught him in the back. Even with Kevlar, it's a hell of a whack," Jennifer answered the implied question tightly. The doctor had followed, thin-lipped and disapproving, but silent.

Sam swallowed the curse she really wanted to vent and just nodded with a sharp jerk.

John sat for a moment in the pilot's seat, blinking hard, and then he stiffly raised his hands to the console as Abramowicz left the jumper to join Lorne's team in the rain. Ronon flopped into the seat behind John, out of the way, but watching.

"Try to access the power control systems first," Rodney began, with only a silent double-take at John's appearance. "You'll need to initialize each system with a mental command. Touch won't do it alone. Once you're in, I'll wipe out the virus, then you'll have to think fast to initialize the next system. If we're quick, we can clear enough systems to re-initialize the database itself and erase the problem at the source."

"'Kay," John whispered. His left hand twitched to the power controls, his right clenched the throttle in a white-knuckled grip. "Initializing power control systems...now."

The HUD came to life with a graphic display of the jumper's computer networks and Rodney burst into a spat of activity.

"Life support systems...go!" John said after a thick wait, and the cycle was repeated. John moved his hand, furrowed his brow in concentration. Rodney slapped controls.

"Thrusters...go."

"Inertial dampeners...go."

With each new system, John's shoulders slumped lower, and his face twisted harder with concentration, but his eyes remained locked on the HUD.

"Lost...it. Thrusters...again."

Sam took a breath, held it.

"Good. Dampeners again." John's voice was barely a growl over the constant patter of rain against the jumper's windshield. Rodney flicked a look at him.

"Keep it up, Sheppard. You've got to keep each initialized system clean while I move on to the next."

"I...know...stop talking...more...doing," John snarled. "Weapons...go."

"Is it working?" Jennifer whispered at Sam's elbow.

"It's working. The virus is letting John through its defenses." Sam was closely watching the HUD over John's shoulder. "He's holding it off."

"He should be passed out in the back of the jumper. I've never met anyone so damn stubborn," Jennifer groused.

Sam silently agreed, but unlike the worried doctor, she thought it a rather admirable trait. She just didn't know how long stubborn could keep it up.

* * *

><p>Silpa plastered a friendly expression on his face and nodded to the small group of shoppers he passed on their way to the market from the Stargate. The rain had stopped in the village, but a gusty wind whipped droplets of mist off the trees and dampened his hair. The shoppers simply hurried by, their heads bowed against the splatters.<p>

When they were past, he reached into his robes and pulled out the device he'd acquired from his offices – a real Wraith hand stunner. The impossibly rare weapon had cost him an entire year's salary in bribes to find the right buyer, and another in trade. Silpa had coveted the weapons since he'd seen a wandering Gypsy demonstrate one as a child when he and his father had come upon their camp during a hunting trip. He hadn't seen another one until he'd found the one was carrying decades later.

That is, until the Newcomers had started trading in the market. The Atlantians never traded for, or with, weapons, but many of them carried the stunners on their uniforms. Silpa had even overheard one of them, several seasons ago, complaining about having to do so. The soldier who'd made the comment seemed to believe that the weapons of his own people were superior to the Wraith's technology. The boast had both infuriated and terrified Silpa.

Another surge of fear swept through him and his feet stumbled over several steps. The Atlantians were powerful. But the Metal Man seemed even more so to Silpa's imaginings. If the metal man's plan failed, and the Atlantians failed to take its device back to their home for the metal man to find, then the metal man would blame Silpa.

On the other hand, if Silpa could help the metal man find the key it was looking for by arranging for the Stargate to connect the transmission Teyla was so worried about, then perhaps the metal man would reward him with an even more glorious weapon than the stunner. And protect him from Atlantis as well.

The decision was obvious, having thought it through, so Silpa continued to the Stargate with his steps more confident under him. When he got to the edge of the clearing where the Ring of the Ancestors rested, Silpa slipped off the path and hid himself in the trees at the edge.

The soldier at the gate looked bored but alert. The man's weapon – one of the kind that had been boasted about – hung loosely in his hands. Silpa had seen how quickly these men could react and fire. He gulped and crouched a little lower.

The Wraith stunner felt cold and heavy in his hands when he aimed the glowing muzzle at the guard across the meadow, still hidden by the vegetation between them. Xiang was his name, Silpa remembered just before he pulled the trigger. A beam of blue light streaked across the distance and struck the soldier dead center in the chest. Silpa had hunted his entire life and had secretly practiced with his prize, though this moment marked the first time he'd used it against another person.

Xiang twitched, fighting the stun, then sank into a heap on the sopping ground.

Silpa stood for a moment, shaking with exhilaration before prudence took hold and he raced to the dialing device and began pressing the keys of an address. He did not know the Newcomers homeworld, but Ahk-ho-lido had been given addresses to use when they wished to contact them.

As the ring completed its connection and the stretching waters of travel receded into their usual, placid gurgle, Silpa stripped the radio off of the unconscious soldier. He walked close to the shimmering wall of energy and pressed the button as he had seen the Atlantians do on many occasions.

"This is...Pulo, Trademaster of Ahk-ho-lido requesting communication with the people of Atlantis. There has been an accident on our world. Your people are in great danger. Colonel Carter and Colonel Sheppard and Teyla Emmagen are in terrible trouble. Please respond."

Heart pounding in his ears, he waited a few moments, then repeated his plea. He didn't know where the address led, or whom the radio might reach. Pulo always sent runners through to convey messages, but Silpa guessed that using their own radios would make an impression. After a third try, the radio crackled with a reply.

"This is Sergeant Hopkins at the Gamma site. Who is this, again?"

"Trademaster Pulo of the Ahk-ho-lido Market world." Silpa also added the code phrases he had been taught and a description of the "accident" that he'd just made up. He finished with, "Please, your people need help right away. Can you contact your...homeworld and send help?"

There was a pause.

"I will relay your message. I can't promise we'll send anyone without confirmation from one of our own people, but I'll ask them to scramble a team and dial in to request instructions, just in case."

"Thank you. Oh, thank you. Please hurry."

"Hopkins out."

Silpa felt a flush of triumph. His ruse had worked. Hopkins would contact Atlantis, Atlantis would contact Ahk-ho-lido and open the Stargate between the worlds for the metal man's work to complete. When the soldier came to, he would have no memory of Slipa's presence.

He had only to return to the village and wait. Atlantis would be calling back soon...

* * *

><p>"Accessing main database. Ready...Rodney?"<p>

John forced just enough air through his lungs to speak the words, but drawing any more air than that was like breathing liquid fire. He'd had broken ribs before that hurt like this. He knew he should be fighting the pain and forcing deep breaths to prevent pneumonia and all kinds of other nasty side effects...but not right now. Right now, the pain was a distraction and it was taking every ounce of what remained of his concentration to chase down the virus scampering through the jumper's computer.

The flickering display on the HUD only told half of the story. The mystical connection of the ATA gene interface usually made him feel more like he was seducing a lover than flying a machine – and sometimes it was even as much fun.

This time, however, each system he invaded with his mind was like coaxing an angry dog out from under the porch with a biscuit. And then he had to keep it from darting back under when he moved on to the next one.

At this point, he had at least ten mutts yapping at his brain, all trying to go in different directions, and he hadn't even gotten to the front door yet. The big dog was hiding in the main database, digging around in the goddam archives for some reason known only to its mangy ass. John forced a slightly deeper breath than was strictly comfortable and held it while he wormed his concentration through the virus's authentication barriers and pushed the porch screen open for Rodney to throw his bug spray. Damn. He was so tired, he was even mixing his metaphors.

"You've got it. I'm in. Just keep the path clear for a little longer."

"Door. Not path," John whispered as a little of his air escaped between his teeth.

"What?"

"Nothing."

In the back of it all, behind the dogs yapping and the virus skittering and the unholy vice squeezing him around his chest, was a small countdown timer, ticking away the seconds his men had left if they were floating around the planet in an unpowered jumper. There weren't many of those seconds left and John was becoming aware of the fact that Rodney wasn't going to get the virus smacked down in time.

His concentration slipped a little with the surge of worry and the screen door banged against the frame, interrupting Rodney's attack on the database for an instant before John caught it on the bounce and managed to prop it open again.

"I need that connection open!" Rodney squeaked, half angry, half fearful.

"I...know..." John snarled. His hand that wasn't wrapped around the throttle was shaking. He pressed it a little harder into the interface, trying to support the connection by feel alone. _Damn virus! _ He hated the Iron Man. He hated that his people were in danger. And most of all, he hated that it was using _his_ DNA to do it all.

Wait a minute. _His_ DNA...

John split his concentration as far as he dared, and sent a new thought to the communications panel. He hadn't invaded that system yet, it wasn't on the way to the database and Rodney had told him the rest would clear out easily once the big dog was gone. But he didn't want to clear out the virus in this system, not yet.

Reaching like a man extending himself too far over a precipice, John tickled the comm interface and opened a channel to the jumper – the _other _jumper.

"What are you doing?" Rodney yelped when a thread of light traced away from the cluster of blocks on the HUD to draw a new box. John didn't have the capacity to answer.

The virus was still active across the channel – as John intended – and he wiggled his brain ever so carefully into the life support system on the jumper overhead. Another biscuit, another dog came crawling out to snap at his heels, but he was in. Using the virus's control, but his own ATA, John flicked the mental switch that would turn on heat and Oxygen.

It worked! For a second. And then the big dog hiding in the other jumper's database snarled in his face and shut down power to life support from another angle.

John realized he'd been holding his breath for far longer than was advised, when he felt a wave of dizziness. He took a deep gasp that must have had a little groan in it because he felt Ronon's hand on his shoulder when the shudder that accompanied the breath passed. John jerked, and pulled away from the touch to lean further over the console.

Slowly, John stretched his concentration from life support to the power systems on the 2nd jumper. One of the boxes on the HUD, the one that represented this jumper's thruster control, and then another – weapons – flashed a warning, then faded from comforting green to a dull orange.

"Sheppard, you're losing control over several systems!" Rodney was past panic and his voice was merely informative terror.

John knew the score. As long as he could keep the database open and enough power to it for Rodney to keep working, then he could also try to save his men. He pushed harder, waved the ATA biscuit a bit more urgently and _finally _the HUD drew a green box around the 2nd jumper's power system.

He knew he was forgetting to breathe again, there were weird black spots floating all over the HUD that weren't really there, but he worked even more carefully to send just enough power to life support to give his men more time, but not alarm the big dog enough for it to look for a workaround.

Another local system fell, another box turned orange on the HUD. He'd lost inertial dampeners. Still OK, though. Rodney was still in the database. John's body was stiff and cold with the tension, but his head felt so full, so consumed with the effort of staying ahead of the virus's attempts to regain control of power – on both jumpers – that all sound and feeling vanished from his consciousness. There was nothing but his mind wandering through circuits and glowing lines of energy. He didn't really exist. He was inside the jumpers. He WAS the jumpers.

John fought the virus, no longer reaching out, but simply holding it away from the few precious systems he needed to keep his men alive. The black spots were swimming faster and globbing together into larger holes. Even shallow breaths hurt. He hunched more and more against the console as the abused muscles in his back threatened to mutiny and give out altogether. Even as his body shut down, he felt a surge of triumph. He was doing it. Rodney was almost finished.

He was concentrating so hard on power and life support, that he almost missed the flicker of warning in the communications system. A new signal had been detected. New signal? John struggled to understand. The communications array on the 2nd jumper cheerfully acknowledged the contact with the Ancient version of an electronic handshake and John suddenly got it.

"No! No, no!" he cried. His throat hurt around the ragged words.

The Stargate was open. Atlantis was calling to its digital companions on the other side. And somewhere from deep in the 2nd jumper's database, the big dog snarled with pleasure and gathered itself to jump across the void.


	9. Chapter 9

Silpa had just crossed into the forest when he heard the sound of feet pounding towards him from town. He froze, his mind racing, his heart thumping. Behind him the Ring of the Ancestors began to sing with the arrival of a new connection. He shoved the stunner back into his robes, thinking quickly. He was so close. Perhaps these were only shoppers who'd spent too long in the market and realized they were late to return home...

The hope was squashed when Teyla and both remaining Atlantis soldiers – the communications officer and the guard at the door – burst around a bend and into view. Both soldiers lifted their weapons the moment they caught sight of him. With a sudden flash of daring, Silpa plastered on an expression of panic (which wasn't difficult to do) and waved his arms as if glad to see them.

"Teyla! How fortunate you have come. Your man at the Ring is ill. I can't wake him. I was just on my way to find you."

The communication officer's face flickered with alarm and then doubt and Silpa thought for a moment that his lie had been accepted. That hope also died when he looked at Teyla. Her face was flashing with fury.

"What have you done, Silpa?" she demanded.

Silpa just closed his mouth, deciding to say nothing. Teyla waved the guard towards their man on the ground and then stepped close as she had done to Pulo. Silpa fought not to take a step back.

"Tell me what you have done!" she repeated, this time with an air of panic.

It was at that moment the Ring splashed open its connection and fell into quiet flickering.

"It's too late," Silpa said softly. And he almost felt bad about the fear that spread across her face when she understood.

* * *

><p>Teyla felt her heart clench within her. She was frozen with indecision. How quickly would the virus transmit itself to Atlantis once given the chance? Should she take the time to warn them? If she shut down the wormhole, would they be able to open it again? Would doing so prevent them from sending the cure Rodney was working on? Was this wormhole even from Atlantis?<p>

Her radio burst into life in her ear, "Colonel Carter, this is Sgt. Banks, please come in - ."

Teyla flung herself at the DHD, interrupting the greeting, "Atlantis this is Teyla. Authentication code TangoAlphaNiner-7043. You must shut down the wormhole immediately. We have been attacked by a malicious virus capable of transmitting itself to Atlantis's computers. Do not dial P43-897 for any reason until Colonel Carter or Dr. McKay gives approval to do so. Be advised, you may already be at risk. Shut down the gate!"

She heard her voice grow loud and frantic as she spoke, and then she was slamming her hands into the DHD to force it to close the connection from her end. Rodney had shown her the code to do so once, saying it only worked on a few worlds for some reason she could not remember.

She was still smacking keys when Banks replied, "Acknowledged. Atlantis Out."

The wormhole collapsed with a slurp. Teyla leaned heavily on the DHD and tried to control her trembling hands. The communications officer had Silpa by the arms who looked like a man trying not to panic. The Sgt. was kneeling by Xiang, but didn't look alarmed.

Had she closed the gate quickly enough? Or was Atlantis also now battling the virus that threatened not only John, injured and too far away from the gate to receive the care he needed, but also the two pilots on board the jumper far above her in space?

She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Had she even done the right thing by closing the gate in the first place? Her hands continued to shake.

* * *

><p>Sam flung herself at the console between Rodney and John at John's harsh cry.<p>

"What happened?" she demanded. John hunched over the pilot's console, his eyes tightly screwed shut and his hands stiff claws upon the controls. He was too occupied or too far gone to answer, so she turned her demand on Rodney who continued slapping at keys as he answered.

"Someone opened a wormhole to Atlantis. The city automatically pings for any friendly technology and the virus is trying to use that connection to transfer a copy of itself to Atlantis. Sheppard's holding it back, for the moment."

Sam shot another look at John, who looked close to passing out.

"Rodney, he can't hold it for ever. Wipe the database. Fry it if you have to, but get rid of that program!"

"I am! I mean I did. I mean – I was almost finished when the gate opened. Sheppard's having to block all communications completely to keep it from copying itself. I can't send the reset counter-virus I just finished to wipe it off of both jumpers at the same time while it's blocked. If I clean it out of this database and leave it on the other jumper, it will just copy itself back here again the second it gets a chance and we're back to square one."

Sam bit her lip. Damn, why did it always seem like their best solutions became problems in the end.

"Wipe...virus. I'll...stop..." John gasped and Sam frowned, puzzled.

"You think you can manually handle a one-way transfer of data?" Rodney snapped, throwing a calculating look at John. He'd not only understood John's suggestion, but he sounded like he'd also trusted the answer.

"Hurry," was all John said in reply. Rodney took a deep breath.

"OK. Sam, I'll need your help."

Sam leaned closer and Rodney shoved his tablet computer in her hands.

"I need you to launch the counter-virus I've just written from here. It may take a couple of attempts to beat the thing down, so stay on top of it. As soon as it's clear, I have to re-initialize the database and run a scan to make sure we got it all."

"OK," was all Sam could think of, allowing herself to feel a bit amused at the role-reversal.

"Sheppard, you need to shepherd the counter-virus through the communications link into the database on the other jumper. Once it is attacking the 2nd copy, you'll also have to re-initialize the database before you release control of communications." Rodney threw a nervous glance at John.

"Got...it," John whispered so softly, Rodney stared a bit as if unsure he'd really spoken.

"Good, then. Go!"

Sam pounced on the tablet and executed Rodney's program that chased down and destroyed the virus entirely. It tried to slip around the attack by hiding in the sensor system, but Sam was too experienced to let that trick fool her.

"Database is clear!" she called, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.

"Re-initializing database," Rodney answered, just as intent. "Sheppard, how's it going on the 2nd jumper? John?"

There was a pause and it took Sam a few moments to realize that John hadn't answered. She spared a glance in his direction and bit her lip again in concern. John was bent all the way over the console, his hands twitching with seemingly random motion. If it weren't for the HUD flickering above his head, she'd have thought he'd passed out.

"You can do it, John," she encouraged. "We've almost got it. Just finish this up and we can go home."

* * *

><p>John was lost in the glowing lines. The virus was flailing as Rodney's program hunted it down and destroyed its traces from the computer, but even in its death throes, it was dangerous. As if it knew its best hope was to replicate, it attacked his defenses around the communications system with increasing fury.<p>

He couldn't close the connection to Atlantis without also closing his connection to the 2nd jumper, so he simply put his mind across the data feed and held on to the big dog's tail as it writhed and bit and scratched to escape.

When Rodney's program tickled at his mind, asking for permission to continue its pursuit, John felt a shiver of panic. The virus was too strong on the other ship. He was slowly losing his grip as it repeatedly flung itself at the link to Atlantis. He tried to open a tiny window for Rodney's program to slip through, but the hole gaped too wide and he had to slam it closed again and give everything he had to hold it back.

As if renewed by the near success, the virus tried one more attempt, overwhelming John with a series of multiple attacks in the obvious hope that John would miss one and let it through. It was suddenly too much. The jumper he sat in was slowly coming back to life and even with his entire efforts directed at preventing the big dog on the 2nd jumper from hopping towards Atlantis, or back towards them again, it was winning. There were too many threads to counter, too many holes being nibbled into the barriers.

There was only one choice left – to disable and shut down the 2nd jumper altogether. He could send a surge of power from the only other system he controlled into the communications array and blow out the transmitter physically. It would prevent the virus from connecting with Atlantis, but it would also mean the death of his men.

Yet again, the virus almost slipped through. John stopped it by the skin of his teeth.

He couldn't risk Atlantis. He was nearly dead with the effort of wiping the virus from the simple-by-comparison computers on the tiny jumper. They'd have no hope of getting it out of Atlantis before it did whatever it was trying to do.

A cold flood of despair soaked him through and he heard his breath hitch in fury. Cursing every moment, he sent his mind to the power system, coaxed it to build up a charge that he could direct down the glowing lines. He waited until there was enough juice to be sure it would destroy the array...

With an abrupt 'pop' of mental pressure and a sudden release of tension, the connection to Atlantis closed.

John immediately bled off the extra power harmlessly into the buffers and opened a gaping hole in the link between jumpers to shepherd – as Rodney has said – the counter-virus towards the 2nd big dog.

It was a hell of a dogfight. The 2nd jumper had more of a hold, but in the end Rodney's program was just as stubborn as Rodney and the virus slunk back under the database porch where it would vanish when John re-initialized.

He realized that he'd started to shiver when he sent the command to reset the 2nd jumper's computer. He noticed, that he was laying almost across the panel in front of him when he slowly withdrew his mind from the glowing threads to find out what was going on in the real world. He discovered that he was having a really hard time breathing when the real world turned out to be filled with loud cheering and even louder pain.

"That's it. Sheppard got the 2nd jumper re-initialized. No signs of the virus on either ship." That was Rodney. John was back to listening from a dull stupor again.

"Can they talk to us?"

"Communications are open. They aren't answering, though."

John gasped and made a small attempt at sitting upright. It was an ill-advised thought, however. His back and the right side of his chest screamed a protest at any motion that even came close to the abused and literally cut up muscles.

"Wait, I take that back. Jumper 4, say again. Do you read?"

John heard the rest of the jumper go quiet.

"Um...Yeah. Yeah, this is Jumper 4. We lost power, all life support. I guess, we...passed out. We're OK, now, though. Ooops!" There was a tense silence, "We're OK, _now_. Had to make a course correction. Almost fried in the atmosphere. All systems seem to be responding. Um, do you know what happened, Dr. McKay?"

John sank into the control panel and let the pain wash over him. His men were safe. Atlantis was safe.

And John really wanted to take a nap.

* * *

><p>Sam blew out a happy breath and stood up, beaming at Rodney. McKay was still running checks through the system, making sure they really had found and destroyed the virus entirely, but the relief even in the paranoid man's posture was encouraging.<p>

"Nice job, McKay," she said, finding her voice at last.

"Sheppard pulled if off," Rodney snapped. "If that virus had used anyone else's ATA for its encryption, we never would have gotten through in time. No one else could have controlled the Ancient systems like he can."

Sam was downright shocked at the compliment, until she realized the words were really veiled jealousy.

"No one but you?" she taunted, unable to resist.

"Clearly I could have handled the technical aspects. In fact, Sheppard was pretty sloppy in his approach, but it is likely that I would have been hindered by the lag caused by the artificial ATA gene."

"Clearly."

With that Sam returned her full attention to the object of their conversation. John was sprawled across the panel, his back looking, if possible, more black and blue than before. His face was buried in his arms and he wasn't moving.

Jennifer had already shoved her way past and stood with her fingers on his neck and her scanner whirring. Ronon was nudging John with increasingly firm pokes and prods, but John didn't even twitch.

"He's finally passed out," Jennifer declared. "He's shocky. Ronon, can you help me get him out of here and back onto the table. I need to start him on fluids and antibiotics and we still need to sew him up." She turned her fierce glare on Sam as Ronon hustled to obey.

"Can we go, now?" she demanded.

Sam shot a look at Rodney who nodded with violent approval, looking very worried between sneaked peeks at John.

"We can go," Sam replied. "Let's take him home."


	10. Chapter 10

John woke from the deep, deep sleep of the highly medicated with a lazy slowness. It was a while before he figured out he really was awake – his head felt full of insulation, his right shoulder felt heavy and his legs were tingly, like when you were sitting weird and they were falling asleep, but hadn't gotten to the pins and needles part, yet.

The latter sensation pinged at his mind until the mild discomfort blossomed into a terrifying worry. He tensed with the thought and realized something else – a small, warm hand was tucked under his, returning his tight squeeze of anxiety.

"John? Are you awake?"

The question was spoken by an equally warm voice at his left side. He felt his cheeks go warm and he relaxed his hand.

"I think so," he said, or tried to. His voice was gravel on sandpaper.

"I think so, too," Teyla's voice replied happily. He hadn't managed to open his eyes yet. "We were beginning to wonder if you would sleep through another day."

"Another?" John had no idea what day or time it was, or even where he was, though the soft beeping of monitors and the cool, sterile smell of the air gave him a pretty damn good clue.

"Yes. We returned from Ahk-ho-lido two days ago this afternoon. You have been asleep since Jennifer closed your wound."

There was a long moment of quiet, and John almost dozed off as he tried to get the comment into some context that made sense. He had been hit by a singing bullet...two nights ago? No, three. Jennifer had yanked the Iron Man's virus transmitter out of his chest two mornings ago. He didn't remember returning to Atlantis, but he must have... The hand under his gave a little shake.

"Are you still awake? Jennifer wants to talk to you."

John didn't answer until he figured out that he still had his eyes closed and that maybe he'd be awake if he opened them. Doing it was harder than thinking it, but with a valiant effort – if he did say so himself – he raised his eyebrows high enough to crack apart his lids.

It took a few blinks and some effort to focus, but he finally saw Teyla standing beside him, one hand under his, the other resting lightly on the pale green sheets that covered him. Jennifer was fussing with the wires coming out of his other arm and he flopped his head in her direction.

"Mornin', Doc," he slurred.

"Welcome back, Colonel," Jennifer teased, giving him her full attention. "Can you tell me how you're feeling?"

John would have shrugged, except his body was way too relaxed and he was lying flat on his back, not propped up on comfy pillows. _That _realization bumped the worry up a notch further and he squeezed Teyla's hand hard before embarrassment again stopped him. He pulled away to scrub his face with shaking hands, hoping the women would think they were shaking from fatigue, and trying to figure out what to say. He felt the tug of tape and stitches in his right shoulder as the motion pulled on the dart wound, but it was a dull sensation, not pain exactly.

"Um...Feel really numb," he said, the single word expressing the best both the medicinal fuzz and the terrifying tingling in his legs and hips. He tried to shift his feet, and he felt an overwhelming surge of relief when he got them to rustle a little under the sheets, but they were still heavy and tingly, as if they were on pivots and he just didn't have the right leverage.

"No sharp pain in your chest or back?"

"No."

"No aches or discomfort?"

"No." He didn't count the discomfort of not being able to move his legs right in that answer.

"Any trouble breathing?"

John took a deep experimental breath at the suggestion and felt a twinge in his back before he stopped. "Deep breaths kindof hurt," he admitted. He considered asking more about his back, but Teyla's eager presence stopped him. He...didn't want any bad new in front of her.

...Or Rodney.

"So! The sleeping, comic book action figure has finally come back to life," Rodney bellowed happily as he walked up to John's bed, a tablet computer tucked under his arm.

"M'wake," was all John was willing to admit. "Did you figure out who the Iron Man is?" Jennifer opened her mouth at the change of topic, then sighed, resigning herself to visitors before she finished her verbal checkup. That suited John. He sort of didn't want any bad news in front of himself, either.

"Not a clue." Rodney's answer was cheerful, but the news bothered John. "Other than the fact that it was specifically seeking ATA gene carriers that would take its nasty little virus back to Atlantis, we have nothing."

"I thought Silpa said his 'metal man' was looking for a key of some sort," Teyla chimed in, her expression the smug look of someone who got to correct McKay.

"Well, yes, but that doesn't make any sense, so it still falls into the 'we got nothing' category." John disagreed, but Teyla spoke again before he could.

"And Colonel Carter mentioned something about the power signature looking familiar."

John grinned when Rodney's shrug of disgust pegged his 'Rodney's embarrassed' meter.

"But since we had to fry the device from Sheppard's chest and wipe the virus completely to keep it from attacking Atlantis, we have nothing to study to quantify 'familiar' into something more meaningful."

"Who opened the stargate, anyway?" John groused, suddenly remembering those terrifying moments of holding the virus back from the communications downlink. It was Teyla who answered, and John turned his head at the anger in her voice.

"Governor Silpa encountered your abductor in the forest on a hunting trip before the first bullets flew through the city. It told him that it was looking for the city of Atlantis and he told it he would lure us to Ahk-ho-lido to save his own hide. When he discovered that we had removed the device, he sent a message through the Gamma site requesting _they_ contact us."

"Why?" That didn't make much sense to John.

"He feared that the metal man would punish him if we escaped its trap. He believed the metal man would reward him if he helped it."

"Great. Half the galaxy is asking us for help all the time, the other half is trying to find bigger friends to beat us up."

John closed his eyes, feeling beat up himself. "Just thank whoever got the gate closed again for me. The virus almost got through. If it hadn't shut down when it did, I would have had to...sacrifice the jumper to stop it." He shuddered at the close call.

"You're welcome."

John cracked his eyes open again to peer at Teyla. He was shocked to see tears sparkling in her eyes that she blinked away, her expression fierce.

"You shut the gate?"

"I ordered Banks to close it as quickly as possible. I was afraid I'd done the wrong thing, that I had shut down the only connection Atlantis had to Rodney's cure..."

John shook his head, "No! You did the right thing. Any longer and those pilots on the jumper in orbit would dead right now. You did the right thing." He hated the look of doubt in her eyes, wished he could do more than stare encouragingly from a bed. "How did you know what Silpa had done?"

Teyla took a calming breath.

"I grew suspicious after Silpa lied to me about a meeting he said he had to attend with Pulo. When Pulo came blustering into the Barter Room and had no knowledge of such a meeting, I also remembered something Silpa had said that he could not have known. He said: 'I am pleased you were able to remove the _metal man's_ device from Colonel Sheppard'. But he never heard us speak of the 'Iron Man' as you and Rodney call it. I only heard the reference once, and Silpa was not present at the time."

"So you tracked him down." It wasn't a question. It's what he would have done.

"Yes. I grew terrified when we spoke with shoppers who had seen him on his way to the Stargate."

"With good reason," Rodney chimed in – butted in, actually. He was looking left out. "Silpa stunned our man at the gate, called the Gamma site and fed them some story about an explosion in the market."

"There goes his security clearance," John muttered.

"Ahk-ho-lido no longer has our favor," Teyla agreed. "Colonel Carter voided all their codes and has evacuated the Gamma site. We are simply fortunate that we arrived at the gate just as Atlantis was dialing in."

"You were there when the gate opened?"

"Yes."

"How long _was_ the gate open, anyway?" John was enjoying the story, it kept him distracted from the worry, but this part didn't seem to fit what was happening on his side of the transmission.

"Perhaps fifteen seconds. Twenty at most."

"Twenty _seconds_!" he couldn't keep the shock out of his voice. Teyla cocked her head.

"At most."

"I'll be damned," he whispered, unable to repress another shudder at the memory of the battle within his mind to counter the virus's assault. He'd felt like he'd been fighting for days. He'd been sure he was holding off the virus for hours at least – which of course didn't make sense now that he thought about it.

"Felt longer, huh?" Rodney pressed, conveying curiosity and that trademark, Rodney, I'm-jealous-that-you-did-something-heroic-in-an-intellectual-way vibe.

"Felt like I was holding the tiger's tale," John admitted.

"Well, I killed the Tiger and you look like crap, so I'm going back to work. Get back on your feet, soon, Sheppard."

Rodney waved a jaunty farewell and left with a bounce in his step, his alpha-nerd status reassured. John appreciated the visit, but his words brought fear back to the foreground from where he'd almost managed to bury it. A spike of terror sped his heart and he heard Jennifer rustling at the machines. He closed his eyes again and tried to breathe through the panic.

"Do you need anything, John?" Teyla asked.

He just jerked his head, thinking that maybe if he pretended to fall asleep she would leave. He really didn't want anyone around right now.

"He's fine, but I need some privacy to complete my exam. Teyla, would you excuse us for a while. I need the Colonel all to myself for a bit."

John gulped. He usually hated any kind of exam that required privacy. That usually meant what the doc was going to do to him was anything but private.

"Of course. Feel well, John."

John lay still, a stiff mass of tension and waited for Jennifer to begin her torture. He heard Teyla's footsteps fade and a privacy curtain being drawn around his bed. Great.

"So what really hurts, John?" Jennifer asked, her voice firm but sympathetic. There were no cold devices being slapped against his skin. No covers being tugged off his scandalously underdressed body. He cracked one eye open, peered at the young woman. She waved a hand at the machines.

"Your blood pressure is through the roof. Your heart rate keeps spiking. Your skin is clammy and if you clench your fists any tighter, you're going to dig holes in your palms. Since you've been stable for the past twenty-four hours, those symptoms tell me you're either in a lot of pain that you're not admitting, or you're working on a first-class panic attack. Do you want to tell me which it is, or do I get to use _this _to find out?" She waggled a very cold looking stethoscope at him to emphasize the threat.

He laughed softly at the doctor's playacting, relaxed slightly. It took a couple of breaths and more courage to ask than it took to face down three hungry Wraith, unarmed.

"I...My legs. I can't move them...right. Feels tingly and I can't...move them...right." He heard his voice go desperate and he hated it. He kept his face fiercely neutral, determined to take whatever she told him without reaction.

Jennifer nodded, stepped close.

"John, listen carefully. You're fine. You're going to be absolutely fine. The singing bullet that hit your back broke a rib, in the back of the ribcage, and caused a lot of bruising and swelling. The tingling and sluggishness you're experiencing is due to inflammation pressing upon the spinal nerve bundle, but it will fade with the swelling. I've got you flat to keep pressure off the bruised vertebrae and rib, but there's no nerve damage. I've had you under the scanner twice."

She was so firm, and so confident that John felt the fear slide away with a feeling of relief so powerful, he couldn't suppress a gasp. He took several deep breaths, feeling shaky.

"Thanks..." he managed at last, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Well, I didn't do anything but plug the hole in your chest. Ronon found the singing bullet that hit your Kevlar. Turns out, the bullets were flying versions of the same device that you had inside you. It was smashed into powder, but Rodney recognized a couple of pieces. Pretty evil. Considering the force it hit you with, if you hadn't been wearing your vest, it would have dug itself nice and deep in your chest cavity where you would have either died immediately, or bled out a few minutes later. We would have taken the virus back to Atlantis for sure...in your dead body."

John stared at Jennifer. "Are you trying to creep me out?"

"No, I'm trying to tell you that you're pretty darn lucky, so don't go complaining when I tell you to take it easy for several days for your back and ribs to heal from a little bruising."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, meekly. At that moment, after being saved from the thought of a life-time disability, he would do anything to prevent that from happening. He knew it would wear off, but for now, lying around sounded pretty damn good. "Just do me one favor."

"Anything, John."

He wished that was an honest answer, but he just went with the most relevant.

"Can I get something to eat? I'm starving."

Jennifer chortled.

"Heart rate dropping. Blood pressure leveling off. Demanding food. Yup, you're back. I'll send a tray your way. Just let me know when the pain catches up with you. You don't need to tough it out. You need to relax to keep your spine relaxed."

"Sure," he said, just to get her off his case and moving towards that tray she promised.

"Remember, I can tell," she said fiercely, tapping her machines. She gave him a pat on the arm and left him alone.

John squirmed a bit, still wary of the weird feeling in his legs, then tried to relax as the doc had ordered. He managed, somewhat, by repeating her comforting diagnosis like a meditation mantra. But as the worry of disability faded, a slow seed of dread settled permanently into his chest to replace it.

Who was the Iron Man?

And when would it come after him next?

* * *

><p>Sam scrubbed her eyes and scrolled to the top of her report to read through one last time. It was late and quiet out in the control room beyond her office door, but she was restless, agitated. She flipped the scroll bar on her mouse with an angry zip and the text chased back up the screen. She must have also accidentally hit the Save button because a dialog box popped up with the words "Complete and File Report?"<p>

That's what was bugging her. This whole incident with Silpa and Sheppard's Iron Man was far from complete. They had Sheppard back – and she'd been unable to even start on her report until she got the good news from Jennifer that he was waking up and responding well to rest and treatment – but everything else dead ended.

The two devices they'd recovered were useless in terms of analysis. The hyperspace signature turned up no hits. The list of dead ends went on. McKay had put a listening post on Ahk-ho-lido, but so far, they'd had no evidence that the alien ship had or would return there.

Somewhere, deep in the lizard part of her brain, she had a nagging feeling that something about the carrier wave and the hyperspace signature seemed...familiar somehow. But it wasn't Ancient. It wasn't Terran, or Goa'uld, or even Ori.

With a sigh, she swallowed her pride and hit the File button. The report wasn't complete, but it was as finished as it was going to get for now. She'd put everything she could think of in Atlantis's database for such a time as they might encounter the Iron Man's technology again. Silpa was cowering in his own world's prison, but he was a patsy. There was no lasting connection between him and this race they knew nothing about.

Definitely Wild West, she thought as she powered off her monitor and forced her feet towards bed. She just really didn't hope this was the part of the story where a new villain strolled into town.

Pegasus already had too many of those...

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue – 1 Year Later<strong>

John pumped bullets into the soldier's shield, feeling his heart pound with fury and fear as nothing he did stopped the other two from hauling Rodney and Dr. Jackson out of Janus's not-so-secret-anymore lab and onto that damn circle platform. He grit his teeth in vicious satisfaction when the shield around the alien finally fizzled out and John's bullets pummeled the damn metal suit with sparks and pings. When it fell, he had to force himself to stop firing out of pure frustration.

This thing was down, but it still wasn't enough. Rodney was gone. Sucked up through the hole they'd made to get down here in the first place. Still holding the muzzle of his rifle on the prone alien, John slapped at his earpiece, half turning to fling himself back into the transporter towards wherever he needed to go next.

"Control Room! What's the status of that ship?" He'd fly a damn jumper himself just to make those bastards pay. Instead, Banks voice was choked with regret.

"I'm sorry Colonel, they're gone."

John froze. Gone? How could it just be gone? How could it get through the shield? DAMN! It was Ahk-ho-lido all over again, only this time, Rodney was the one missing and in that moment, John would have given anything, ANYTHING to trade places. He forced down a shudder with effort, suddenly flooded with long-forgotten memories of floating through a forest in the grip of one of those suits, of being stabbed in the chest...

"Colonel?"

John shook himself, waved his men to cover the fallen alien.

"Go ahead, Banks," he managed.

"Did you get a look at the aliens? Do you know who that ship belongs to?"

John threw a hopeless look at Teyla who was looking just as helpless as he felt.

"Yeah. I have a pretty good idea who that ship belongs to," he snarled. "Get Zelenka down here."

"Done, sir. Who?"

"Iron Man," John said and this time he did shudder. "He found Atlantis after all."

Fini

_Author's Note: Thank you to those who stuck it out to the end! _


End file.
